Satish Verma
The Prairie Wool
The trapped body
will not listen to baby fugue.
The perception will find―
the writing on the flute.
For Neptune, the liquid
carries your voice.
The fugacity will find
the tongue of eternity.
The sea has divided
the land. Water sends the wreaths.
The future will keep an eye
on the scavenger, time.
There were signs. It was going
to become a predator.
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