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Manoeuvre
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Satish Verma An acid dropp burns your lips,
dares you to question
the continuity of crossroads.
Nowhere you reach.
A burden to accept
the gratitude of a cactus
for permission to bloom
in starless night.
The perversity prevails over the body.
You strip to the bone
and start a blue fire
in the valley of denials.
The skill breaks the terrible wall.
Unlike a paperweight you bend
a clean argument
and climb on the stings.
