Satish Verma
Listening Unheard Voices
The leaning neck
of the moon, getting
intimate with
a tall pine.
Partheno-sculpting
a protégé, without touching
the essentials.
Somebody waits for your
footfalls. Somebody
loves you without telling.
Like sensory pits
of a viper. I smell
your heat.
The swaying hips
of downing night.
Sun was rising.
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