Unclaimed Poem by Satish Verma
Unclaimed
You create a hybrid
without protocol.
A body of clay lies―
in the morgue. The fear
guides you.
Hold me, we
would discover each other
in dark.
You can, I would say,
without hurting yourself,
become what you are.
The great divide
between life and death
must continue.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/26/2024 12:45:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
