Untitled Poem by Nina Kossman

Untitled



See how nothing
keeps out of Pluto's gorge,
silently drifts
towards it, waits, sinks
into the thickening dark,
the unreflecting water,
a grave made of mud and stones:
this way-to hide lizard shadows,
that way-to rob of flesh.
Although mercy is an unprofitable profession,
save me from too much death.

Saturday, October 24, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: existence,myths,death
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