Satish Verma
Imperiously
A downy mildew.
I will undress
the leaves.
Leaving the truth
at your door,
trespassing the moon.
When a house
was felled, why were
you collecting the blueberries?
Now, a brown poem
will write your name
on the guillotine.
An ocean apart
a voice booms
a shame for an empire.
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