Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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With No Mistake

There was some pain
in your thick voice.
You had gone too far.

Hunted like
a deer, for an ecstatic vision
I was very angry with me.

Learning deep, back
to back, you were aware of
the dogma. It was a witch.

Chasing you on reverse
feet. One kiss less―
you become a beast.

An asp in the sleeve.
My bullet-riddled body
will wait for your stone.

No more I will write your
arrival. The twinkle reflection
of your eyes― uncrying.
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