Last Laugh
The trumpet. Well it is that war
and soldiers interrupted, shimmered
yesterday in the huge world of age,
sex, of craftiness, these two halves --
your Cleopatra, your atomic bomb.
Our lady of the funeral marches,
already old, at that certain age where
lamps go out. Ring her out, if you will;
I'll warrant she'll prove the ruling
Passion, time and again. But in this
Next race, love, why not back
My laughing heart? To fish and seals
Humor may be prelude to self-destruction,
A cat's laugh, curious, and not represent
The hope and modesty, unselfishness
To build again, survive. But they're not
The ones who can rule, destroy, reform
The world, who do. That's the laugh.
And only we deserve it.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
