Waxing Political in Poetry

Overly cryptic? Yes. If you grok it, though, it’s daring, risqué, even shocking. Shocking, I say!

I blame Nema
by Victor T. Cypert

I stood in the fire
of the hawk,
gave myself to Mars
and pledged
brain, blood,
and soul
unto the Divine
Chimera. 

Nowhere
is the Vulture
evident.

Her plume
fallen;
her scales
tipped.

The Forty-Two,
shrewd and astute,
lust
in the marketplace,
while her abortions
shriek
and wail
and confound
the merchants.

I blame Nema.
By the same mouth,
I blame Nema.

Shriek into the Void...

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