Violence In A Cup Poem by Satish Verma
Violence In A Cup
The winged sex of the
module/wants to stay naked.
Everything backs it up
to become a suicide bomber
on the beach.
A cactus will not bloom tonight.
A shirt was loaned to the
tortured torso without head and limbs.
She was possessed by a
black spirit of a squirrel,
which was killed by a hatchet.
Bit by bit a moth was eaten alive
by the ants. Only the dry wings
were clapping.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 10:48:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
