27 october 2018

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Recalling

It was snowing, snowing 
very hard. Hold me 
tight, when the wolf comes. 
 

 
The wolf comes in red 
cloak. Why did you ask me 
to pin a white rose on him? 
 

 
There was no quiver, 
no tremor. The murder was 
clean, without blood. Desert ants.

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