Reading Arthur Rimbaud

Satish Verma

Dressed to assassinate, 
not having much hope. 
Were you really― 
serious for me? 

Like en face 
a star giggles, between 
quivering small moons. 

The night is drunk. You 
hear a long hoot, from 
enfant terrible, to scare away 
the kiss of inevitable. 

What a bliss to live 
in the black heart of the moment, 
when the sun unwraps 
the flame. 

Complete annihilation 
of million desires. You 
become the walking death 
of unknown.

lizardking's picture

You are such a good writer

These are somewhat densely written in a way that I can't quite put my finger on the idea being portrayed, but I sense the spirit of it. It reminds me of a breakup, and a revelation of a deep love all at once