Fled and Gone – A Lament for Poetry
©September 21st, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Poetry seems to have fled
As prose unwinds
Wearily, wearily,
The thread that
Someone, a hero, perhaps,
Takes heartlessly
To the heart of the labyrinth,
Where a bewildered,
Bellowing Minotaur awaits
To be slain
Again, and again.
Poor thing!
And Poetry smiles,
Curling deep within
Her cave of molten gold
Too hot
To touch.
I seek her,
Nevertheless.
Labyrinths and monsters
Though fascinating,
Can wait.
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