Opening The Fist Poem by Satish Verma
Opening The Fist
Scavenging the art
of life, you strip
to the bones …
The wild hunt for
the blue jay ends
in exile.
Time plays a cruel
game. You win, and are
served the crab apples.
Like Sylvia Plath―
you betray yourself,
but poems stop you.
A bling of your voice―
deflects the stardust.
A granite will become you.
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/3/2024 9:58:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
