on 21/2/02 10:18 am, Arthur at [log in to unmask] wrote:
> Jetsam
>
> With money stolen from the school they planned
> and bought a bottle found along the shore,
> no label, but grey-heads and common lore
> thought it a potent whisky from Japan.
> They knew no better but the lure was there
> of joys denied them by the solemn church,
> so in the deepest bush they bent their search
> for flame-lipped kisses from that liquid fire.
>
> The drink was paraquat, the promised kiss
> was pain and death. One rots in shallow scoop,
> the other views forever with blind eyes.
> The first will crown the village pile with his
> stripped skull and ooze, with rain, down seaward slope,
> the other leans to learn the sea's long sighs.
What a horrible story, Arthur. No I don't want to know if it's true, but I
wonder if it would or wouldn't be better to "do something" with it as
poetry, other than bleakly contemplate it. Though what, I don't know.
Sally ee
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