Satish Verma

Gold Star - 33,766 Points (5-6-1935)

Preface - Poem by Satish Verma

Between life and death
a photo finish race
will decide the relationship.

There was intoxication
at heights. Your throat had
become hoarsed, sliced
after a scream. Matchsticks
were thrust in the
gnawed mound of kneaded
flour. The kitchen
was going to explode.

Barehands you were
picking the black beans;
parting me lip by lip
caressing me thumb by thumb.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem


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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 13, 2015



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