Uriah
Uriah's bowels unraveled in the sand.
He thanked God for the gift of dying for
King David, who was master of the man.
Those Hittites never seemed to know the score.
Bathsheba was the prize that David sought,
Uriah inadvertently occluding
His royal lust, so winkling out a thought,
King David killed her husband by colluding
With his generals to make the Hittite die.
Afoam with sweat, Bathsheba grinds the King
Indecently. Beneath a yawning sky,
Uriah's writhing in the sand and gasping,
Holding his ****ing kidney in his hand.
I've never felt more sorry for a man.
Copyright © Michael Higginbotham | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment