you were stealing me from myself <br />my mitochondria, a little under the name, <br />while I was unmoored, talking to a mirror <br />who did not recognize me, caked in heat and dust <br />touching my tissues and blood <br />under the ignited roof of the tower, <br /> <br />walking with crutches to wipe the tears, <br />religion, open pyres, I am still stained <br />near a lantana thicket, amorous, talking <br />to death, pirates grabbing the winds, <br />migration of a whole waxed population <br />in black air <br /> <br />stalkers have a corrugated mind and <br />serial killers a mournful voice<br /><br />Satish Verma<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-silence-of-eternal-flame/
