Something To Happen

Folder: 
Satish Verma

The ache of taking a 
call, when my 
book was burning. 

I scramble to warn 
the bees, not to 
come near the sundew. 

Words hide the 
sticky floor. Walk prudently 
to swap the hunger strike 

for bread and wine, 
as the fingerprints untangle 
the mystery of desires.