}} Sunday Morning Reverie |

Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










Sunday Morning Reverie

What if a round of steel flung
              Smiled
Rather than, or a bomb
              Dropped
Broke into down—the
Engines of revenge turning coat?
What if this madness were the
              Crutches
Of a circus emperor
              Savoring

His New Year’s tricks,
Terror’s neck being
              Strung?
What if for all time widows’
And orphans’ horrors were gone,
              And the days to come
              Sing
Not of ground burnt but of
Wise fools and gleeful
Gardens,
              War

An unmourned kiss from
Withered lips?