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
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