The sizzling legs wait for 
an infinitesimal pause 
to learn on approaching zero. 

I am not cultish: 
the egg has walked out 
on a dwarf mother. 

The dead horse was rising 
after eating dirt. Naked 
flame will decide for – 

the rights of a man in a 
hot night. Deferred a perfect 
landing on cherries. The 

colors were fighting 
for the supremacy of 
twisted necks.

Satish Verma

Poetry In English
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