|
| |
Family Album
They take the powder then leave
they circle back around for the wings
They've stripped you of flight
turned you back into an insect
no hope to reach the yellowing light
Before your last breath
they've already slanted the epitaph.
In the aftermath there's no empathy
no chance to speak or weave an alibi,
all good deeds downplayed or forgotten,
A nameless moth in the back of the family album.
Copyright ©
Anthony Biaanco
|
|