Surging Fever Poem by Satish Verma
Surging Fever
Poised to reach out and
catch the flames, licking your own
wounds. You have no rage for dark hopes.
You lie undead.Bangles
click. I like your every step.The blood
prints of hands shine on walls.
My thirst increases. I
want to drink hemlock under the moon.
No cave of sulphur will have any deity.
Tuesday, November 24, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/5/2024 8:10:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
