X: the Corpse By the Ref
Dearest Prof –
Upstairs, downstairs:
Racing ref-wards: lasses
(Prof, a roused lad saw them)
Breaking through the prime fogs
Racing like some fleece-hunters
Led by a night-gowned lass
(Where could they be going?)
The peering at something in soils:
Some retreated – wordless!
Like a soul peeved by a sight.
Dearest V.C. –
Many racing clay of lads: restless!
Racing ref-wards as the lasses
(Prof, a roused lad saw them)
A corpse at the rear of our ref
(Prof, a roused lad saw it there)
The thick stagnate flood
The naked log devoid of pistils
Was it a sermon for each beast?
(Who cut down this limping tree
From this famous forest of pantology?)
Dearest Prof –
Each beast: even rabbi-beast
Came and saw himself
In a log: that naked log
“A rebel caught by pig-watchers!”
(A roused lad herd it told!)
Was the log alone in the mad act?
The corpse by the ref
Whose flesh & blood was he?
And those two dry logs lying at Medical Centre
Whose bones & blood were they?
Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2009
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