Saturday, September 16, 2017

A Makaris Lament

Patrik Johnestoun might nocht fle.
How forgotten will you be?
Will one phrase you turned
In the lathe of your neck last?

Will your ordinary name
Be attached as a label
To anything orbiting
This battered planet?

You rucked the sheets of your bed
To make it more inviting.
No one lies in it.

Someone you never met will
Smooth the mess you left,
Which was all of you you left.

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