One wardrobe malfunction
was a blast, a kill;
undressing imagination.
I was ready for an ambush.
Like boa’s grip, entwined, strangulating,
hardly breathing. I am in blue water
like a humpback whale;
donot go for the revenge.
It was not the fabric of flesh
hair and bones. I was tasting
the ash falling off the forehead
of a fallen saint.
The smile was going up for sale
in a gulp of greed.
Tomorrow morning I will find
amnion shaved on street.
Satish Verma
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