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A CLEAN MURDER

1 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 51 vote, average: 4.00 out of 5
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English Poetry

Standing on a beam,
shrine:
holding a black dawn,

my phoenix roving on dark river.
The bell still clangs;
I hear the footsteps.

A weird thought
spreads out on peripherals,
makes holes,

the undone communiqué
of a war
between knuckles;

the blind eyes
lift the fallen globe
of light.

I move from tree to tree.
Who was left unburned?
The sky was overcast.

Satish Verma

2 Comments

  1. siddha nath singh says:

    mesmerizing lines

  2. Gion Gion says:

    Satish,
    “holding a black dawn,
    my phoenix roving on dark river.” – liked this image,
    Gion

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