Rumor Poem by B. Sven Telander
Rumor
Near a sculpture of a
female Jesus crucified,
scalpels open a
new portal-
ghost, shadow, shade.
A hell pregnant with eclectic
fronts, cables, shards, splinters;
organic chains of coy deception? No.
Sleep fleeing the eyes
of a newborn.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: chains
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8/28/2026 11:52:12 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
