Poetry

Satish Verma


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27 july 2019

Violence In A Cup

The winged sex of the 
module/wants to stay naked. 
Everything backs it up 
to become a suicide bomber 
on the beach. 
 
A cactus will not bloom tonight. 
A shirt was loaned to the 
tortured torso without head and limbs. 
 
She was possessed by a 
black spirit of a squirrel, 
which was killed by a hatchet. 
 
Bit by bit a moth was eaten alive 
by the ants. Only the dry wings 
were clapping.






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