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Ignition

Like a butterfly pinned in a collage, fluttering. Death makes a deal. I was appalled standing on the edge watching the withering body. The lake drowns me. Seagulls were waiting for a renaissance. It is not even midsummer. The planting of the kiss remains incomplete. No sex was involved in baring midriff. Moon ignites the legs. Satish Verma

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Book: Shattered Sighs