Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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There Was Only One Love

The future looks like
an asylum. Incarcerated,
the muscular planet
will breach the trust.

How will you receive
the guest at the door if
there was no light?

This was not my
hour. Confessor was not
ready to bring out
the knife.

Venus flytrap
with hinged jaws waits
to catch the landing victim.
Where was the moon?

Tasting life as
an archeologist, picking
the ruins slowly,
slowly.
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