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Jan 2021
You were asking a pound
of flesh. What kind of love it was-
to burn the sky at dusk?

In corridors, power
releases honeybees. Rains were
asked to stop in jars.

Scapegoats run toward
the fire of jungle. Himalayas are
falling in deep sea.
Written by
Satsih Verma
90
     Sara Went Sailing and Galina
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