Beside his deathbed
the lamp flared up
burning through the mist
of his delirium.
The corseted guilt
freed from
his unconscious
the rationalizations
of his life
exposed
riding on his halting,
labored breaths.
And all
this came
with a simple
primal
flame.
Want to review or comment on this poem?
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Reviews of "What? The Flames Already! ( Voltaire's Dying Words)"
Happy New Year to you!
Erin
:)