it’s the stony silence
the morning after
a savage beating
the night before
it’s that fragile feeling
of quake and tremble
and those crimson stains
on the killing floor
the dawn reveals
the shameful secret
of blackened eyes
and fractured jaw
the sacrificial lamb
was led to slaughter
under dismal skies
by a man of straw
it’s a mouthful of ashes
and a handful of nothing
but the familiar lies
from his bloody maw
.
Should read: but the what should be familiar lies. (just a comment - don't change a line)
ReplyDeleteI had trouble with the last two lines Martin - I wanted to convey so much more, but was bound by the strictures of the rhythm - I may attempt a re-write in the future. I often re-write - sometimes years later. Thank you for your kind comment.
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