Richard George

Rookie (June 1,1965 / Cheltenham, U.K.)

Oblivion - Poem by Richard George

Medea, wracked with pain,
would have blessed our word with a deep sigh
from her stabbing womb - docked as it is -
Staph sickens ours to be,
a bunch of grapes, its hieroglyph
illuminated gold on the slide.
People die, not languages.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, June 25, 2005

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