Seema joglekar


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Your Absence

Life scuttles by like a vulgar film with a holy message,
In the film the horses are the heroes &the princes the foes.
I’m beginning to relate to the ill-formed matrix of men
Running hoarse-breathed to nowhere.
Where their mouths pour forth cement
And every perfection is turned to a flaw.

A day gallops by like a boxer with grave intentions to cripple,
A bolting swear seems like an invocation,

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