Returning to the ragpicker
like a lone fly
of love triangle, said― were you
writing a letter to confess your love?
Like a glue sniffer, I
am stuck with you.
O brown earth, raw
wounds heal …
When I sing a blade
of grass, when I sit
under moon, holding your
hills for comfort.
My head nestling on
your heaving breast, while
I sleep without―
a dream.
It was devastating to eat
you. Your cauldron, bubbling.
Someone wants to pay
back your sun, your moon.
like a lone fly
of love triangle, said― were you
writing a letter to confess your love?
Like a glue sniffer, I
am stuck with you.
O brown earth, raw
wounds heal …
When I sing a blade
of grass, when I sit
under moon, holding your
hills for comfort.
My head nestling on
your heaving breast, while
I sleep without―
a dream.
It was devastating to eat
you. Your cauldron, bubbling.
Someone wants to pay
back your sun, your moon.
Satish Verma
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