The eucalyptus sting that burns my nose
And eyes is not enough to mask the tide,
Of eloquent free speech and purple prose,
Delivered from armchairs set side by side.
Although they are so far, they sound so close,
For sounds like ghosts traverse double wide.
From sounds within and noise without my room,
I toss and turn and find I cannot hide,
And from below the stench of death’s perfume,
From some wild thing (or tame) that lately died,
With pier and beam and axles for a tomb,
The lucky beast escaped the double wide!
Michael F Lewis