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Dignity
Folder:
Satish Verma There was existence,
without space.
I was afraid of my unborn child.
Inheriting the stammer
of history
I could not think of any brand abuse.
On the contrary, fumes
throw you off the road.
Full moon rising on the cleft.
I was, as I am, never being
to any threat of drowning
in contradictions.
A dignity in withdrawl
and coming back after sunset –
to walk in night, alone.
