Form
M M.J. Lemon
0
Altın Yaprak
When the televangelist
isn't telling you to press
your afflicted parts against
the TV screen for a healing
that will take place
in less time than
it takes me
to nip round the corner to
my favourite English pub
The poet is extolling all
virtue in and of the human
form
Organs, even when shattered,
search for the love
the lust the one
to make them whole
and innocent again
But who'd write
a poem
to sepsis?
I won't
be the first
I'm not that one
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş