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Satish Verma A dynast in the storm-razed
polity will ask─
for a pardon.
By choice there was
no suicide. You will
eat the clouds one day.
Taking the brunt, ─
living near the sea of
people, a window goes shut.
Curtly, with
levitation, the wind
twists, one and everybody.
An owl tattoo, will
tell it all. The hurricane
has reached your door.
Aftermath was a
conspiracy of silence.
Every one was speaking of landfall.
Satish Verma
