2 poems and a dead man

two poems are lying beside
a dead body.

one, whipped with weary eyes,
frail frame and an armless body
disconsolate about dying.

the other, a fine poem.
full of life, extant
cheery about the deceased
and his disconsolate poem.

betwixt and between,
there’s the rattling of bones.
the dead body moves.

leonell echa

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