Quenching

Go forth alone, as a beast,
as a bird, as a fish.
There were knots in the breast
to be dissolved.

Unfrequented, lust brings
a folded rose. A foeless
territory to explore the -
heaven of fingers.

Beautiful. I like you
Your smile enters the knife.
The knife goes into the heart.
The heart finds an angel.

Pomegranates. Dark red.
Oozing on the edges for
accepting the brunt of
a corrosive reversal.

Satish Verma