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Oct 2019
The freckles were
appearing on the face
of Venus-

Arms broken.
A man-eater was shot
dead, while feeding.

The reddened skin
invites a vespa. Sometimes
you love the stings.

You wait for
the sunsets, before the
Venus flytrap shuts.

Drifting on the
dust road, I start
searching my lost address.

How will you hear
my voice?
Written by
Satsih Verma
63
 
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