Francis Poem by Jon Wilcox
Francis
Glass lungs cracking
for fiddle backed crickets
secretly sawing songs
of bitter indifference.
In time's imperfect
recollection of recitations
both bold and bland
memory never had a chance.
With every random switch
taken to the garrulous and guilty
red streaked in shame
for crimes uncommitted.
Glass lungs cracking
for fiddle backed crickets
secretly sawing songs
of bitter indifference.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 10:57:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
