Satish Verma
In Search Of Peace
The tiny thrusts
and a blunt fuel
scrambled over the wet contours.
There was an ephimerality
in overdue kisses
of death.
The interplay of sex
and spirituality starts,
bites the bullet and pushes the boat.
The pungency of an elegy
was a secondhand divorce
with death.
Jealousy: sand was
under the nails. Now
I will find the remains of an ocean
in your eyes. There was nothing
else to be done than taking off
the bikini top like a death.
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