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
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4/24/2024 10:48:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
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.