Archive
07/01/09 - (1)
Intruder in the Dust
Even after death left him in his dust, Withering in a catacumbal spider hole, Time hovered over his carcass, Gluttonously gnawing on his submissive bones, As though there might be some little gristle to savor.
Had death only known That its victim would suffer such a pesky trespasser, It would have buried him somewhere infinitely more remote, Disguised as a scabrous black patch of disease Metastasizing in a lethal slime.
But having not foreseen the intrusion of a ravenous scavenger, Death complacently retired, To seek the company of other wandering strangers, While time sharpened its teeth, Denying even his carcass's soul its complete retreat.
07/01/09 - (1)
|
|||
|
|||
