the fall

dry chaplets
the thorns
their crippled fingers
yet
empty eye-sockets

Ad futarum memoriam

the fall

it was a long fall
I met my nemesis
at the top of the rock
I was drunk
drunk with power and hubris

I was on the top, I was touching the sky
I saw Pegasus flapping his wings

now I hear

vultures
flapping

impassionately flapping

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