A Response Poem 2
H
Herbert Nehrlich
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........and there it was, the crack
not of dawn but of Dawn herself,
with a tuft of hair, a burning bush
in the sunlight's reflection, bristling,
a Moses parting the water's grave for man,
and the fragrance of forbidden pork lingering,
sending desperate signals to vultures,
birds of scruffy feathers and no decency
Where are you God, where is your only son?
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş