Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

Paper Thin


Tearing up,
the revised versions.
Wall was rising.

Invisible,
like the unconceived
terror.

Half-eaten space,
the man wants to
hide the holiness.

The final leap,
for the hips, the lips
for the dive.

The bloodied
paperweight, which smasthed
the skull of a bald deity.

The arguments, that
kill the path, a
gift of sky.

Submitted: Monday, July 08, 2013
Edited: Monday, July 08, 2013

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