Satish Verma
Vast And Near
To shut the methane,
you sent―
the barbs. The brutal
assault against the thimbles.
I will not send the
edict for withdrawl.
Even the river
was thirsty.
The freaks were
jumping on the fence.
An interrupted moon
was wary of them.
I will draw a
sand painting to heal
the man on the
beach.
The air smells
like an egg. As you
run, the mist
fills your eyes.
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