Counterfeits - Poem by Satish Verma
I am touching your belly button,
to find the remains
of ancient connectivity.
Was that good-
asking for a nasal approach
to the golden incense
of a sleeping Buddha?
The faith crumbles at
the feet of a groping figure.
A falcon tears away the pink
globe, drinking the falling nectar.
Unzipped, a Venus now opens
the secret of a murder. The
dismembered parts were strewn
around over the surface of moon.
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