13 july 2018

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Words And Passages

Defining the borders 
with guilds, 
 
a body hangs on a rope 
mauled and fabled. 
 
I am making a fool of myself 
to find your hand. 
 
Watching the world upside down, 
the ailing Buddha─ 
 
was dying. I don't own the day. 
Tomorrow will not remain yours.

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