Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
Send Message

Smoking Candles

Soundlessly steps move, in
midmoon― deleting trust.
Now I am the time.

You left your guitar
on the moving sands of beach.
Waves pick up the song.

Watching a seagull―
wolfing out from eye socket,
of a sinking fish.

A gift from a barbie
doll of tanned skin in nun's garb.
Please stand in hot sun.
92 Total read