Dumb Idol

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Dear Monty,

A poem for Remembrance Sunday





Under the cold moon's light
The soil remains warm

The worm turns and twists
It casts off its scent
Of damp earth

I push tulip bulbs into the soil
With bare fingers

They will see a new spring
While my eyes dim

The moon once awesome and bright
Weighs down like lead

I plant a dumb idol
My tongue lights too many fires and the
Forests flame

Anger eats up life
It is a consumer
It feeds on judgement
And begets more
Until it gets fat
Ripe for death.




Paul

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