The dangling moon
behind the ornate gate
waits for beheading.
*
Indeed I had
called you in dark to change
the name of slaughter.
*
Blood tastes salty,
when words were sweet, slicing
the white lilies.
Satish Verma
behind the ornate gate
waits for beheading.
*
Indeed I had
called you in dark to change
the name of slaughter.
*
Blood tastes salty,
when words were sweet, slicing
the white lilies.
Satish Verma
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