Satish Verma
Solemnity
Give me a lone word.
I will write a poem.
You enter the final hour
of diagnosis. The kill
was imminent.
Back to back two trysts collide
generating a fire.
Who was peeling the moon?
The stab sets in. In
abeyance of the gift. I
will give you a scar.
Daisies will remain awake
at night, for the vigil
of a slain pilgrim.
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