Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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A Secret Self

Every night this body
becomes a dissecting knife

a crime scene of blood
and unstrung flesh,

the lamb spreads the wool
for a deadly charge of skull plate

with a gift of mathematics
a moon cutout in sky

before the shadow of myth in the depth
of tortured chemistry:

the endless nothing will kiss the darkness
my blindness becomes a diet.
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