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Untrailed
Folder:
Satish Verma It was a wake up call
invoked
in the beginning of serene numbness.
Under the veiled threat of
a moon
celebrating the kill. A path in croci;
waiting becomes a torture for a
saffron sundown,
mercury was rising on snowy peaks.
Let’s toe a shikara in the lake
to catch a reflection
of the audible silence of a frozen shoulder
A pause in psychotic burst of
unshattered false teeth
of time in full habit.
