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

is the Vulture

Her plume
her scales

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

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

Shriek into the Void...

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