Faute De Mieux Poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
Faute De Mieux
The saber swishes through
A layer of air,
Sick with chronic suspicion,
And hot-knifes through my neck
Like a foregone conclusion.
The head, severed from sin,
Drops with a thud
At my feet,
Muttering a feeble excuse…
My life was not
Faute de mieux;
I had earned it by being undecipherable…
Saturday, June 8, 2013
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4/25/2024 5:38:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
