![]() Polka DotsA Poem by Satish Verma![]() Polka Dots![]()
We are afraid of each
other. You start packing your majolica wares to move out swiftly, not to return back. The floor was dirty. I walk barefoot on the sharp edges. To ask the matriarch of pains― mother earth, how long the man should suffer? A woodcutter does not want to pursue his art. He throws his axe far away and starts meditating. So much violence in our lives. You slay a traveler for telling his mind. You were becoming jealous of yourself. Start throwing pepper in the eyes of moon. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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