A Patty Thing

Satish Verma

The primal urge to undo― 
your hair. I am going 

It ends at beginning. 
A rite of passage to nakedness 
of soul, when you have 
nothing to hide. 

The master cell, has flipped 
over, after you squeezed 
its belly. The tasteless sphagnum 
was out. 

The hunger stands at your door. 
Wants the bread of pride. 
Will you stop the clock 
and go for timeless? 

I had lighted the incense 
sticks. One for you and 
one for God.