Ringed in silver gorget, dull eyes misting
In turpentine devoid of warmth
Catching frigid pallor, that sleek whimsy mimesis
Of painter’s careless hand and boredom, dangling
Like a kouros strangled, twisting a
Key iron-housed in broken lock
Barren of secrets and starved of salvation
Is a rhyton emptied long ago
Void of even the grit of rotting parchment sands,
the etching worn, smoothly sad, by the cacophony of time:
He is mute and worth no second look


Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at

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