Confessional Hurt by Satish Verma

Holding the ladder 
I was hungry 
looking at the waiting dawn. 

Raw landscape: 
narcissism 
forages the belly. 

Picking up the figs 
from passion flowers. 
Is that right? 

Can you sow the seeds 
on a cloud? 
Unclothed words? 

Stealthily 
a guerilla smashes 
a summary of centre. 

A falconer 
releases a prey 
to feed an anarchy.

Satish Verma