You are peeling me off 
like a crab. 
Time has sunk very low. 

For the hungry kids 
who was growing crab apples? 

Creating art, 
arriving between the pubes. 

A microfossil 
roosting within me. 
I could live without oxygen. 

Incandescent, 
the liquid wounds. 
I will not send any salvo.

Satish Verma