Faust Poem by Morgan Michaels
Faust
The spell was broken. All that evil lay in shards
on the floor, like unseasonable scarves
shed along the backs of furniture.
Once-fiery little stones cooled and quenched underwater
each incantation unsung, each
Monday, February 20, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: evil
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8/27/2026 11:43:15 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
That poem spoke to me of the relief that comes after a 'battle'. The exhaling whilst looking at the rubbled trail left behind. It spoke a lot in a little. The name 'Michael' a nice pun. Thankyou. Regards...Sharon.