Unblunted

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
laughing at death takes one only so far

Submitted: June 08, 2007

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Submitted: June 08, 2007

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Unblunted


Fortinbras embraces no mystery
But that all exits are just exits,
And bodies stare at their enemies.
The science of escaping is inexact.

But all exits are just that: exits -
Where death gathers so does light.
The inescapable science is exact
In ordering ghost from the site.

Where death gathers so the light,
As Falstaff jests the ale from our throats,
Ordering ghosts from our sight,
Sinking rivers to bottoms of boats.

Falstaff:  the jest that ails our throats.
The audience roars from nothing better,
Sunk in rivers at bottoms of boats.
Assuredly, the final act's no shelter.

The roar of audience that knows no better
Than to stare at the bodies of their enemies.
Assuredly, final acts are no shelter.
That Fortinbras braces is no mystery.


By R P Webster

March 5, 2007  


© Copyright 2020 shabbycurragh. All rights reserved.

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