Hot Corridors Poem by Satish Verma
Hot Corridors
Shame of centuries,
you wanted to erase.
Breasts were empty
Strafing nonstop,
you throw
the rocks on martyr.
The naked saint
accepts defeat.
Covers himself today
Ode to severed
head. He was
still smiling.
Monday, December 19, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/6/2024 5:42:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
