Play Dead Among The Flies

all of all. besides

beside the leaning Yew

crated only half

wholehearted doubt beside

strange bedfellows of prisons worth;


quarter but the whole. astride

unsettled skies

without flesh or heat

outside the cosmic eye

London has taken to crawl;


upon the lips of verge

lost. our simple son

in stomach of the star,

between the clocks,

staid beneath the crease;


pay homage the aired malaise

to this and this. inside

mother of the loin

brother of the wreck

father of The Thames;


coil to toss and catch. aside

vulture of the wreath

keeper of the scythe

march fast through April

play dead among the flies;


  • L. B. Mek

    if this is a biographical dedication, then I'm so sorry for your loss..
    but know either way, you've penned
    a write worth investing in
    to fully explore, and cherish as a serenade
    for the pure love of reading

    • aDarkerMind

      thank you. a great loss, yes. but with loss came strength enough to share my words. words I will treasure. thanks again dear poet.

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