Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Cannot Hold

Got struck on the spiky gate
a half-eaten deer
shattering the panther.

Daggers were drawn.
Terrier was in the glass house.
Canine discretion to draw the blood
between friends.

A crisp murder of a terrorist.
spotted face of the relentless moon
sending flames to jasmines.

The little skulls popping up
amongst rumors.
I scream in a celestial leap.

I could walk in ruins
of incarnations
preaching for death.
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