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COLORED DESIGNS
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Satish Verma Everytime you discover
a new black hole;
someone crosses the border
and starts crying.
Thread weaved in and out
of tapestry. You were nailed
to the wall, which never
had any doors.
Why were you not a mackintosh?
You scripted strangely, talking
of an open world. You smell
a war between the poems-
in a book. There was no ad hoc
pain in groins. Your boney
nose went to find the peat moss
in the jungle of sandalwoods.
Satish Verma
