Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Sorting Out

Take my canto,
me again. My breadth
staggers when I don't see you.

Hoisting my grief
I unbelieve the lamb, that
jumped into inferno.

To undo the moon―
heart will not accept the
verdict of summer― setting sun.

Your jaw drops
when shadows disappear
under the stars.

The distance multi―
plies, when I try to
come near you.

The ash blinks, words
shrink, yet there was a silent yes.
You roll me down in your tears.
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