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Adam's Mend

The bald mannequin, stands undraped, without genitalia moving the lips. The choreographer walks in caressing the knobs to open the invisible door. There would be knife between the teeth and dance in the flames to lift up the veil, to kill the sorrow and pain. A spill from the eyes becomes red. The whispers will decide the prices. Glass case will never be empty. Sweet show will continue. SATISH VERMA

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 8/4/2010 9:24:00 AM
Enjoyed your poem,..p.d
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things