Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Prizefight

Time zone had become acidic.
Wear the chador softly.
Moon is coming out.

Down rushing
stillness croons.
Someone is going to outwit the night.

A night bird weighs the wind.
Why do you stand alone?
Desires will come relentlessly.

The essence of pain.
My bronze heart,
has no prodigious injury.
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