Lord of...

The cloud of flies was thick above
The murdered miner's stinking corpse.
I found him, and I called the cops,
“Back to nature” plans undone.
My trail led from the dead-end road
I knew I'd never get to leave, as
Two cops, seeming inconvenienced,
Interviewed me on the spot, and then
A clueless cub reporter asked me
Questions someone in the seventh
Grade might think to ask. Disgusted,
I just drove back home, my mind,
By then, too wound up to appreciate
The awesome forest. Better, in
Aftermath of some poor devil's
Bleak demise, and subsequent
Unpleasant meetings with mankind's
Less lucent lights, to brood at home,
Away from nature, among my own
Species, buzzing like a cloud of flies.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 124 times
Written on 2019-09-05 at 01:00

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