Namaste

Back and forth
back and forth
culture whores
were removing the skin tags
from armpits.
The private plateaus spurting
lemon grass juice.

Between kind questions
and cruel answers
I watch the heat rlsing.

Scanning the leukemic beach
the sex drenched hour
squirms with pubic pain.

Two round hills -
firm breasts tucked under white clouds
were weary of lip slaves.

Namaste sunset
I was waiting for you.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!