Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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The Exodus

You have reached
somewhere,
on misty heights.

I die again
carrying you under
my skin.

Hidden from the
glare of blazing
sea.

In labyrinthine, you
open the knots―
of uneasy breasts.

In silence― we
will give our signs
and part.

My limbs
give out― I walk
in air.
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