a facade
do I chip away or corrode
a corrupt black verdigris
to expose crippled bones
or extant cold dust?
trembling fingers gently
gloss this marred surface
afraid to show
what I already know.
Osiris, God of the Dead.
a corrupt black verdigris
to expose crippled bones
or extant cold dust?
trembling fingers gently
gloss this marred surface
afraid to show
what I already know.
Osiris, God of the Dead.
Labels: poem
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