A Very Hurt Poem

by Satish Verma

Last night
moon was following me
discreetly,
skirting behind the trees.

A white splendor
drips,
like a dropped coin
on poor’s hand.

Did you see the blood
on roses?
The petals were wounded
in rain.

Casual violence
spreads in the streets.
I write a very hurt
poem.

03-Nov-2011

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