What Must Remain Hidden (Challenge)

There's that log he painted; so Norwegian, Munch,
All squashed inside, inside an undertaker's suit.
The log is yellow as a flame, unnatural, the sort
Of color Munch, beneath that charcoal suit, might
Once have worn when out of sight of all his
Neighbors, all those other trees around the glowing
Log, perhaps somewhere, like Sicily. The tree
Has fallen, rightly so, as pride, as yellow clothes,
Are sins, as gathered, dour, Lutheran neighbors,
Trees, would surely say.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 74 times
Written on 2015-01-21 at 19:06

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