Clemens

She should be dead.

The child drowned –

Man, soldier, impaled –

Driod destroyed before

they crashed here.

 

She should be dead.

Why so insistent?

An autopsy demanded

by a tearful red eye.

Why burn the bodies?

Her companions, friends,

daughter and love?

 

No.

 

A weak lie –

long forgotten disease.

She should be dead,

but she lays

and with me.

 

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