Suicidal
Your underpants?
Can you put them behind
beneath the weight of memories?
Flamingos.
They are in flight
after the birth pangs.
Trapped-
the light flutters
at watermark for a name.
Yet to be born,
a stone-blind moon
wants the partisan blue.
One will not forget a headless
body of an ariel.
The tempest was at the door.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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