| The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth. | |||||
|
|
Brotherunsuspecting I took the call it was at work – after all the tear-strained voice at the other end of the electronic line still did not me prepare a few garbled words whispered in my ear then my mind sharpened my brother jeremy drowned in a bath tub they phoned us at midnight what can you say to that oh god, was all I managed at first suddenly a dry throat and a sudden thirst anything I can do I mumble through yeah – like I could bring her brother back what a load of clap trap there is nothing I can do she knows it too there is very little I can say I am in the office – already getting weird and curious looks she realises too later, have other calls to make she manages in a broken voice I put the phone down will sit shiva for him I say with her and her mother I have never met her brother.
|
Tears rollRain drops splattering the ground Hale of tears Creating large puddles of red Flowing down the road Soaked up by the rain drenched Sand Red sand Blood red Rain driven rivulets trail their way Red pattern on a sun drenched Sand A single flower Stands straight soaking in the sun Rain formed channel Its red tentacles reach The flower The flower drinks Greedily Of the rain-red tears It swells Bloats and bursts Red droplets sparkle in the sun The flower is dead crumpled on the sand Red sand Blood red Peace is dead |
|
| ©2004 Copyright Marketa Zvelebil | Page 1 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 |