Paper Thin

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Tearing up, 
the revised versions. 
Wall was rising. 

Invisible, 
like the unconceived 
terror. 

Half-eaten space, 
the man wants to 
hide the holiness. 

The final leap, 
for the hips, the lips 
for the dive. 

The bloodied 
paperweight, which smasthed 
the skull of a bald deity. 

The arguments, that 
kill the path, a 
gift of sky.