SPLENDOR

While writing a poem 
I make a blood hole 
in my hand. 

A walnut face 
opens the wrinkles 
to find a jade green nephrite 
for colicky times. 

A prelude to 
a death sentence 
for profane thoughts. 

You think, you can postpone 
insomnia of the longest night. 
The insects were waiting in wings 
to crawl on your beloved body.

Satish Verma