The Wars Poem by Satish Verma
The Wars
It is.
An explosive denial
of an infinite firmness
of round orbs.
Why were you taking
off your shirt
to show the scars?
it stirs a sequestered allegation.
The glare was on my days
and your nights.
The suicide bomber was
a kid, you know.
When a poem leaves you,
how far would you go to kill
a blue jay
for the golden cage?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
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4/18/2024 7:26:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
