More a God-like Tease
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Imagine if the murdered victims, all
Of them, in ethnic cleansing, had their names
Carved in a frieze in heaven on a tall
Throne, high as God’s, carved on it by the flames
Of his perfection, likely sacred beams
As holy lasers, seared there in the stone
Recorded lists from history. Less than dreams,
Though, they would still be bleached out, more like groan
And scream in silence. There would not be room
For punctuation, as in ancient Greek
And Hebrew. Maybe letters spell out doom
Among the names there in Khmer and smell as bleak
As lost eternity for slaughtered souls.
Those names are more like muffled, strangled holes.