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Satish Verma Dismantling the vista
for a missing link.
A moon rises behind the ruins.
I see only the water
and a sunken ship in shallow bed.
The wings have carried away the wind.
A beautiful sin to become
polyamorist worshipping many goddesses
dying everyday.
The blood draws a line
around the chaste bed, where
half-brothers will kill each other.
I tie the knot with hanging
fountain of virtual image.
There will be no consummation tonight.
