Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Snaring

While delaying gratification,
you stripped-down
to bones.

It was winter solstice,
when day and night confronted
each other─

in negativity. Tracking
the frozen footprints, my absence
was generic.

I dread the barrenness─
of looks, the unwritten wounds
seeking the healer.

The avalanche falling
rapidly on the streets, with placards
demanding the gallows─

for the tainted. The
victim lies still. Ashes fly
back at the purebreds.
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