The Whited Sepulchre Poem by Percy Dovetonsils

The Whited Sepulchre



Birds circle
round a corpse
no one knows
how to honor.

Wings wide,
they make
one-hop landings,
greedily eyeing
what was once
a feast.

Hyenas crack bones.
Beaks peck
empty sockets.

Poetry’s skull
robbed of its ears
grins bleakly
in the sun,
trailed
by the snake
of its spine.

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