Eyeshadows Poem by Satish Verma
Eyeshadows
Red horizon―
had bite-marks
of setting sun.
On the table,
I will place all my oblique wares
for a change.
You embrace the strange
things, horns and all. The
dissection was accurate.
A multiplex opens the
gates for all the
lipless gods.
The maddening silence
of the priest was
deafening.
I will not come near the skulls.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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4/26/2024 9:57:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
