Singing Darkness Poem by Satish Verma
Singing Darkness
In hirsute adolescence
a narcissist climbs
the breast and becomes
a graveyard of moons.
Talking of marginality,
a hole in the chest
ejects a secret of peachy skin
when wind was selling sex.
Most corrupt was me
always telling truth about the
warm eggs of chaotic legs
who will not climb down the street.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
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5/10/2024 11:08:35 PM # 1.0.0.1119
