Fever Returns Poem by Satish Verma
Fever Returns
Death wil wash
the feet of truth.
Grass, where the blood spilled
has gone for sale.
A pink eye stalks
the night in dark
humility. You know
moon was rising.
A melting pot rips
apart the ghost.
Besottled I celebrate
the arrival of flames.
Thirsty, you throw the
ice cubes on the ramp.
Butterflies are going to
visit the altar.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
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5/10/2024 5:17:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
