Satish Verma
Make Believing
Unstitched, you visit
my navel, without
warning. There were
bloody stains. I made
no surrender. The bullet
went very deep.
Sovereignty was at stake.
I sit like Buddha
under a raging moon –
invoking the spirits. An
irreverence bites me, scares
me to the bones.
Glitch. I lost the vision.
The nude version was
very pure, very sane.
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