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“In Absentia by Stewart Stafford Marbled mirror's stubbled face, Hollow grimace back at me, Each line a verdict crease, From a rigged jury decree. Denial's chant, the siren's call, Dared me to climb meeker backs, Those perps and their victims, The fading dust upon the tracks. Deep scars from a traitor's blade, Like from some coroner's skit, Staggering down memory lane, Déjà vu choking on a peach pit. Then karma's trapdoor gives, The past is not a partner sparred, Hubris's caw now a trembling chick, Wet rope creaks in hangman's yard. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
In Absentia by Stewart Stafford
Marbled mirror's stubbled face,
Hollow grimace back at me,
Each line a verdict crease,
From a rigged jury decree.
Denial's chant, the siren's call,
Dared me to climb meeker backs,
Those perps and their victims,
The fading dust upon the tracks.
Deep scars from a traitor's blade,
Like from some coroner's skit,
Staggering down memory lane,
Déjà vu choking on a peach pit.
Then karma's trapdoor gives,
The past is not a partner sparred,
Hubris's caw now a trembling chick,
Wet rope creaks in hangman's yard.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.