Satish Verma
Boudaries
By genetic accident─
I fall in your way.
A city sleeps between the arms.
Will you give me
a nickel of memory?
I have lost my home.
What do I do
with the moon? The night
has called for the sun.
Making a nest for
the sparrows. Want to
hear the domestic voices.
Here, the dreams
go. I am selling the
family silver.
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