mark littler

Arthur The King - Poem by mark littler

We are in the depths of Empire
Turn and hate the flag
Turn and hate the shadow
Brass bound and fallen timbers

Dead in the stink of weird Avalon
The champion is dead

The tide throws out the grave
Award his armour
Scale turned to rack insects

This country is at last a history
Middle nation
Multi world

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 27, 2012

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