Saturday, September 20, 2008

The Last Post (To M.T. 1892-1941)


From the Sparrow Hills
a cry breaks from
the city below.

Marina, now silent, sways gently
from rope crushing her throat.

She scratched song in timeless stone.

Like a solicitous mother she hushed, 
in honeyed tones, breath's exacting law.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

sounds like the beginnings of an Alfred Hitchcock Move "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" how provactive!

Anonymous said...

I don't know who MT is ... but this poem is a perfect art form. Sarai