Poetry

Satish Verma


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4 june 2020

Great Expectations

Celebrating the death.
Neither physical, nor nostalgic-
I adore the finish,
in place of wages.

Not cerebral.It was
my pledge to remain a husk
after the carnage.

In manthanal I will preserve
the memories of hairless moon-
my nomadic friend.

Like a woodpecker to mark my
territory, I want to stay
alone in my grief.

March and dahlias.Sometimes
I stand before them and,
talk about ephemerality of the beauty.

When would you come
to say goodbye?






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