The sea like a demented mother
carries in its Homeric embrace
the bodies, rocking
their pale flesh
in its faded wine.
Some late, lost
retinue returning
from fallen Wilusa?
Or were they twice
refugees from Yarmouk?
Time, turning
on itself,
forgets.
In death
they are one.
25.01.-28.01.2020
#Poem #Poems #Poetry
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