Playing God In Osage, Wyoming...(Rev.) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

_______ Author's Prologue ________

The below work which was originally posted
in December of 2018 has been revised on
special request & advice from a well estab-
lished bard, who to my disappointment has
requested that his name and credentials not
be mentioned.I respect this award winning
Contemporary Poet, supporter & friend in true,
and because so, all I can say is, Thank You
my friend, for some extremely erudite advice!
Below is the completed, revised work...FjR

_______________________________ _____
____PLAYING GOD IN OSAGE, WYOMING____


Th' body had been hanging for some days, i'd say, at least,
fr'm an oak branch thick n' sharded at its furthest stretch;
and th' mundungus scent of Death...could be ne'er denied
in air, within a hundred yards of this Souls discolor'd flesh.

The temperature in August, o'er Wyoming's grazing field's
are paled in swelter to th' humid drip, attracting large flies;
stands to reason why none would approach such repulsion;
tho' it also lent much thought as to....th' mindset of a Town.

Murder, cried a whore, still collecting from th' night before.
Suicide, charged an old man sitting on a park bench, drunk;
to th' humble of another, who saw th' dead man in himself,
and, th' people took turns playing God that day.................
........................................................in Osage, Wyoming.




____________________F j R _____________________
____________________MMXIX _____________________