Bowls Are Empty Poem by Satish Verma
Bowls Are Empty
I am developing awareness
of your parted lips. Something was
left to say, your ankles had stopped ringing,
I am not a holder of
candles. Want to stay in the dark to
look at the falling moon on the burning pyre.
Barefoot I walk on the
hot ashes, after the collective suicide
of the utopia, without a war.
Monday, July 5, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: ashes,awareness,lips,suicide
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8/13/2026 10:14:39 PM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
