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In Quicksands
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Satish Verma You wouldn't know,
what you didn't want to,
after a sweet osculation
of a cleaver.
There was blood
on grass, after witnessing
the afterlife of a future god.
The goddess still weeps.
A black moon hovers
in blue sky. Was there a
polite embrace after
a violent actuality?
Delicately you hold
back your tears. The most
important exit was to
remain reticent.
Unsaid ache was the
greatest bliss.
