Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Caretaker

Cannot undo, the
headless leap of faith.
It was not the answer.

A thousand moon
I will wait for the calamity, when
you come back with empty hands.

Playing Mozart,
I discover myself in the
jungle of antlers.

The grief survives
eternally. I arrange all
the words to spell correctly,
a white death.

The black tree
stumbles on pale moon.
The angel will not
open the door.
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