Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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*impact

Turns me on
I will write a poem.

Delirious moon had
picked me up from under the skin.

The safety pin was broken,
now a crowd will disrobe me.

Everytime when my pain makes you cry
oranges are not meant for the sale.

A collegium will stich up the wound.
Once upon a caste the country will go.


• On reading Orange Crush of Simone Muench.
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