Satish Verma
Ignition
Like a butterfly pinned
in a collage, fluttering.
Death makes a deal.
I was appalled
standing on the edge
watching the withering body.
The lake drowns me.
Seagulls were waiting
for a renaissance.
It is not even midsummer.
The planting of the kiss
remains incomplete.
No sex was involved
in baring midriff.
Moon ignites the legs.
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