Deterrence Poem by Satish Verma
Deterrence
This September. It is
going to be very quiet.
I am trying to caress
the mimosa, which
always said,
touch-me-not.
The spontaneous probe
will start the construct in love
of philosophy to mimic
the animal plus
the femineity.
A clock was moving
without hands. Time was up
but legs were amputated.
How will you walk
towards your truth?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/27/2026 7:41:49 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
