Author Information
Reverberations
Folder:
Satish Verma Since my ash has
blown in your mirror
I am warming up to your surrogacy.
Too much deep,
expansive cleavage. I am climbing
down a canyon.
The phoenix:
finds the water―
in your eyes.
Writes a funeral.
No punctuation, the
unwritten poet,
will not last the night.
I am spelling out
the grief of the lonely man on
the deserted road, talking
incoherently.
