profiling the divine phallus
on terraced shrouds of fault the dilemma
of arcane notation starts for that
succultent rumours, emotively torn asunder,

a green room becomes epiphanic,
the voice was gone with black sun;
buried onto neck in the drenched earth
the age old sins will be purified

today i meet you for a refusal to place
wreaths for soft death unceremoniously in
the lethal dose for assisted end of life;
a flame hangs like a pendant on the wall,

deflowered chaste tree, stretched unchilled
in deep wounds: it turns to my inner
eye, the voyage to anonymity of incomplete
cries of a broken dream, tody sleep not

Satish Verma