The Martyr.... Poem by RIC BASTASA
The Martyr....
from the blood of his wrist
and his neck
are borne scarlet butterflies
and some purple ones
and like a short moment
their wings last only for a while
as they migrate
to eternity
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: purple,wings
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8/28/2026 10:15:06 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
