29 april 2021

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Not Blameless

Whoso stills the
thunder, it was difficult
for you to lift yourself.

A failed past was―
asking for a date
with destiny.

What your gut bacteria
would say, when
it is raining hot kisses?

I extricate myself
from the shelled house
of pride against the risk.

Should I prepare myself
for the worst? Midnight
syndrome will attract the moths?

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