the perfume of her voice
hung on the receiver

a sleek lioness of the psyche,
she crept through the savannah

jumping atop the grassy knoll
she shot through my brain
i stared into that bullet
which had knowledge engraved
on its narrow nose
i fell down on my tuffet
curd and whey on my sorry face

the political aroma
stunk in the air
the hoisted flag
fluttered - a dying bird
in a bleeding sky

it is a sad day
when i see the air
conditioned
shell
around me

---

Comment on this poem... - your honest comments may be the only things that keep me going!
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