Sat
On the arm
Of the vast armchair
You look
But you cannot
Stare
Your ears
Tuned to some
Super sensitivity
You listen
But you do not
Dare
Flat
On the edge
Of the cricket square
You took and carried
Now you know
You can’t not care
Your hands
Tuned to some
Downhill delivery
My throws
Are curled, hurled
With hopes of receptivity
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