Midnight Happening Poem by Satish Verma
Midnight Happening
You never forget
the fat preemie.
A perfect revenge of the curse―
at ungiving.
Streaking in
snow, when it
was frighteningly dark.
The moon-bathed
body of the thumb king
running without feet.
How would you―
climb, the black hills
of desire in tragic land
of skulls?
The living god was to
become a marbled statue.
Monday, November 14, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/24/2024 2:04:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
