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.
sounds like the beginnings of an Alfred Hitchcock Move "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" how provactive!
ReplyDeleteI don't know who MT is ... but this poem is a perfect art form. Sarai
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