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Verbarian
Slippery lovers ameliorate their omissions
by catachreses or misuse of meronyms.
Peddlers of phrase aren’t bucklers of breve.
Anatomy of intimacy spills in other ways.
It’s not in the canopy of words but their accent,
like entitlements whilst canter of sexual congress.
Curse of such casuistries are added to my attic.
Secrets the skin holds against you hamper me.
Sensa of the somatic are deciduous.
Lawlessness
Firestones are forever:
flames within need to
be felled. Politicos of
all hues play possum
as helots of hate doctor
wares through pyretic
veins. When bearings
go awry each mascaron
is our political master.
If inner selves were
as speckless as their
photoshopped headshots.
Tempus Fugit
The meaningful rests in the mind.
Digital sensation is doppelganger
to you some thirty years ago. Your
names begin with the same alphabet.
Is this love? If you swivel with spool:
of steps not taken, of non-fulfillment.
Or, desultory poems.
Perlustration
Expertise is to nail when and where
not to expect or endow. The process
is autonomous: the honed get it, not
so gifted move in and out of palings.
Those with Munchausen syndrome
can’t buck nosocomial issues. I’m
my counselor, tutor the self to be on
as righteous a track as possible. If
this is Tartuffe-like so be it.
Penny Dreadful
You weave hymns of your habitude in a welter
of volumes. I find myself in a yurt, my lounge
in the heirloom of your longings.
Grief has no shades only our shine. As MMS ousted
CMS, esteem morphed to envy. Cues gravid with
dignity and goodwill dwindled.
Binary of langue tied us to its longueur.
On our crossway you had only the other path.
Imperfections of parting are always perfect.
Dinger
Moon marinates effectivities
from a faraway zone
with my instincts.
Unheard-of caissons tie up.
They add flare and flicker
to a canvas of clouds,
in, on or under.
Openhandedness
ruins spontaneity,
urging the need for reciprocity.
In arithmetic of relationships
three plus three is never six.
Loneness is addiction:
oxycodone of a kind.
Under its spell there are no trials.
When words don’t reach
will my breathing space?
Sanjeev Sethi is the author of three books of poetry. His most recent collection is This Summer and That Summer (Bloomsbury, 2015). A Best of the Net 2017 and 2018 nominee, his poems have been published in venues around the world: A Restricted View from Under the Hedge, Ink Pantry, M58, Bonnie’s Crew, Morphrog 16, London Grip, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Best of Mad Swirl: v2017, Poetry Super Highway, Formercactus, Unlikely Stories Mark V, The Metaworker, The Five-Two, Beakful | Becaqée, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai, India.