Satish Verma


Paper Thin


Tearing up, 
the revised versions. 
Wall was rising. 
 
Invisible, 
like the unconceived 
terror. 
 
Half-eaten space, 
the man wants to 
hide the holiness. 
 
The final leap, 
for the hips, the lips 
for the dive. 
 
The bloodied 
paperweight, which smasthed 
the skull of a bald deity. 
 
The arguments, that 
kill the path, a 
gift of sky.



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