Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Blazing Trail

They swim like tadpoles.
Thoughts!
I was waiting at the far end of pond.

Heartburn increases at dusk,
fierce battle of blazing stripes
on blankets.

On the scarlet face
a bridge was burning
in wide open eyes.

Somebody takes an aim
hauling a runaway bruise.
Blood comes out roaring.

Weep, my stars,
ice was thin –
drowning the lake.
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