Pouring
Urn was carring the snow
unmelted
like the soul of night.
It was a very strange winter
like araucaria puzzle.
Who was dragging the evergreens
over the chaste cliff ?
All the incogerent roots have broken
the placenta for new gods.
Millionaires ?
The marriage of basil at dusk
with a paperweight, unleaving the road.
I was hearing the footsteps of dawn,
though sky was not listening to knocks.
Satish Verma
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