Satish Verma
Not Ready To Forget
Very scary, I admit―
your vintage―
lovemaking with
a ghost.
Life in a crate was
creating nonpoems.
Water on the ice moon
was never there.
Unmasked you shoot a
songbird in flight.
The soft music went into
the barrel of the gun.
Come and meet my other
self. My penchant for talking
to flowers has made
me a martyr.
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