Menu
Friday, February 1, 2008

Good Morning

The persuasive bespoke oligarchs
Leer earnestly from the screen,
While drowning in their rabid barks
We dress as in a dream:

I draw the latest razor-blade
Softly over my throat,
You oil your face for the masquerade
Before holding up my coat

Open and empty as an animal skin
Or a robe held for a surgeon,
So I lean over and cut my way in
To the day whose end is uncertain
Christopher Woodall
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

1/19/2021 1:51:26 PM # 1.0.0.404