Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Retold Journey

Insane
I turn around
an amputee

to live, for not living
fighting the inner war
speared,
lacerated,
like neanderthal in cave

my weapon
the serrated moon
cried in fluted dark

a glimpse of bare bones
the ash of a bleeding dawn
my shuttered courage
in urn
there was only one evening
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