Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
Send Message

Call Of Unseen

Snared by clouds
the crescent moon was swaying,
like a palm tree in a hurricane.

There was no ethnic
divide. My skin was colored
like your lips.

The predator was
on prowl. Don't go near
the pink lake. The animal would want
his pound of flesh.

The plurality was
at stake. I don't need to
burn the evidence. I was the kill.

An extra syllable
will claim the singulant.
You stay in motion
like hummingbird.

I will never be
myself without your
aura.
87 Total read