Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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One Pyrexia

I am the circumference
and I am the center.
My math has failed.

Snooping at your dark gods,
the pi fumbles. Reverse
osmosis starts.

After lynching the saint
you put him on pedestal.
The frenzy, the blaze, and mayhem begins.

The portrait of the fugitive
was incomplete. Lilies
drop the colors and become nuns.

The cage becomes bigger.
You leave the salt. Tears
with laughter would do.
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