Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Sacred Horse

Charging at the
huddled moon, palm
leaves release the
elixir.

I watch a beautiful
death dance, pouting
her lips,
very quiet.

Oh, precious pain,
come again. The
rock wants to
commit suicide.

My entreaty
will not reach the
heavenly bird, I want
to walk on holy sin.
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