The Conclave Poem by Francie Lynch
The Conclave
We convened a conclave
Where the famiglia
Was casting sideways looks,
Hiding secrets from the survivors.
Papa had passed,
His mantle drapping the remains.
And a day looms for its passing
To an unelected recipient
From the unresponsive benefactor.
Dirges were played.
Outside I lit a cigarette
And the cloud of smoke rose skyward.
The ballots have been counted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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...
5/8/2024 2:58:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
