Celebrating Dark Poem by Satish Verma
Celebrating Dark
I do not write about something
or anything. You will
not knock at my door.
I will be pained, if
you sweep the floor, to
tout the unwritten song.
I sing wordlessly. Even
the echo will open
the waning wounds.
My body, I give to
hawks, to escape the
elegies in the death well.
Even the night
will bring the pillow
for the dying moon.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/7/2024 1:40:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
