The Temptation is Over
Your demons lie,
two feet in one shoe,
sword-bellied,
stock-still,
lit
down
and bug-sprayed,
their
children trussed
and fed to snapping fish.
Look
there, look there
with her teeming hair,
does she stir,
or
that one with
saucers for eyes,
or
him face down
in cream?
All
gone.
Their
ancestors' bones,
exhumed, pestled,
haunt the wind.
|
©
2000 Trout &
Carolyn Smale
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