Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Not A Smile

Let me write a signature
theme, without cubic
reference.

A dove takes a dive.
Your body becomes a poem.
Multiple dots leave
indelible marks.

The livid kindness
has exhausted, interlocking
the planes of separation.
I am still lurking
in black air.

I am the mirror
and I am the face.
A brick thrown at me,
does not reach the target.
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