Queen Mary Poem by Brian Taylor
Queen Mary
She lays her head upon the block,
awaits the executioner’s riposte.
The thin-spun life splits at the shock
and Scotland, England, France are lost.
Empty phenomena rolling on.
Since there is no me,
there is no responsibility.
But the pain is real.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: queen
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5/3/2024 1:34:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
