Sarcophagus

I do everything that I can to be impassive,
The golden face of a mummy someone's
Dug out of the sand in Egypt in Omaha
At two in the morning. She's sitting, almost
Within my arm's reach, talking to others,
Cursing, complaining. I'm in my box,
Unable to speak, never the pharoah,
Just a usurper who told her he loved
Her, and scared her away. I should
Go, but I don't. I remain in my
Tomb. Golden? I doubt it. That's
Her choice to make. We will finish
Our cigarettes, rise and disperse.
Will she watch her tormented
Pretender move off? Will she know
He can't leave her? Will that leave
Her pleased? She won't say. I sink
Into the sand.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 47 times
Written on 2016-11-26 at 00:39

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