An expected elegy -------------------------------------------
A lot now
Of dead feet dancing
And pygmies crying
“I praised Gulliver!”
“I took his brittle
Body when it was low”
And laced the head
With sly cynicism.
When we hear a roar
Is it fear or curiosity?
Is it dying?
Can we lock up everything
Away from everyone?
Then it will be time
To feel the bottom
Of the tombstone
With our dirty hands
And we will feel deep faults
And brake our fingernails
On its faux-hard stone.
Submission Name: An expected elegy
