Satish Verma
Abstraction
Amnesia.
I want to drink tonight,
purple hellebore.
Like to protest―
the display of private things.
The humming.
The alphabet of
betrayal. Who wants
the award?
Amnesia.
I dream of dying,
feeding the doves.
Was it too early
to start getting dressed up
without a show?
Amnesia.
The hyphens don't
connect now the broken strings.
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