Here lyeth . . . (Sarah?) Drake beneath
the floor,
a Persian carpet lapped across her stone
so all you see is “rah, and Cambridgeshire,
and that she was the cherished wife of someone
who caused her to sleep before the altar
like Samuel, given up to night and God.
Mutely, being dead, she bears the thurifer
who stands on her and swings his silver pod
of incense like a pendulum. What time
is it, six feet down? How long did they
tell her the wait would be? And is her name
written where it matters, legibly,
or will we all, given the same name”Dust”
forget at last who was forgotten first?
”Sally Thomas
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Ralston College’s Human Endeavour (ft. Stephen Blackwood)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, Stephen Blackwood joins…
A Critique of the New Right Misses Its Target
American conservatism has produced a bewildering number of factions over the years, and especially over the last…
Europe’s Fate Is America’s Business
"In a second Trump term,” said former national security advisor John Bolton to the Washington Post almost…
