Cracking The Code

Blue poppies were poised
to meet the regret of thighs,
mother of sins.

No flesh now covers the eyes.
A candle burns a green
thumb. A silver bowl breaks,

spilling the milk of nudes. Liars will tell
the story of honour killing.
We were tired of listening

to ravens taking a flight.
No one had seen the corpse.
Only black bones will tell the truth.

Have you seen the holocaust?
It was inside my pen! my write!

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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