Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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An Uncanny Feeling

I would let it go
anything now. Will not accept
any grace.

I am moving unfazed―
buttons apart. Let the night
descend.

A hired applause was not needed.

As the gorgeous earth plays its last tune.
I will wait in the lobby, to fail again.
There was no repeat
of the deciduous teeth,
coming back to chew your fingers.

The small steps you won't
take to bridge the unknown.

Scoping the language, watching
itself dying.
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