What Those Words May Have Said

A Work in Progress
40

Before they fell like flakes from sculpted stone

words repeatedly hammered and chiseled away 

there’s no detritus at Donal’s feet no substance

no scrap paper in a basket or on the floor

nothing to slip and slide on perhaps to fall

felled by a knock-on effect from ambiguity

a moment when the gripped chisel slips

and un-erased evidence remains

a bust of a President’s head

front lobe exposed

dementia more apparent 

ego expanding beyond all limits 

avarice unchecked

ugh…do not look, do not see, it’s far too ugly

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell

                   2025