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Al Drood
Poems
Aug 2019
The Trowel
Sand buried, parched skull
exposed by excavation;
jaw gaping in silent
death's head yawn.
Is eternal sleep so
excruciatingly boring?
Or do you instead
scream across the centuries:
"Leave me be!"
Impotent rage as trowel
scrapes upon bone!
The memory desecrated
in the cause of science.
Written by
Al Drood
M/North Yorkshire
(M/North Yorkshire)
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Bogdan Dragos
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