warm the chilled airs, <br />with burning bones, <br />and smelling dead lizard, <br />opoen to roots, <br />eyeballs pungently blinked, <br />to know, the wayside exits. <br />weathers pleased on the way, <br />pinching memories with toothed fingers,<br /><br />Rafique Farooqi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-me-go-37/
