Obsessıon

Would not place any price-tag 
on me. Like a mannequin dug out from a pit 
goes for sale. 

Abhor the duplicity. 
Want to walk straight – 
without the golden thong. 

The city goes in flames 
in a circle. 
A new fountain was singing. 

They were landing in flocks. 
The old birds of same plumage 
coming to collect the due of old virgins. 

There was no message. 
Letterbox was empty. 
I will not wait for snowfall in the Antarcita.

Satish Verma