Satish Verma


Eaten By White Ants


Downy mildew,
blinks. The sun
will not come back
to rein in its own might.
 
The temple gold,
has come for sale―
in bazaar.
On the balcony, stand
bystanders to witness the free fall.
 
The black door,
plays hide-and-seek
with light.
Green eyes will now
bargain for hips.



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