One Poem by Edward Alport

Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.

The Cardinal Visits the Île de la Cité

The cardinal prowls
The cesspit of the city.
Touching the shadow
With one disdainful
Finger. Watching as the nail
Shrivels, and falls off.

My lord. This is not
A place for the pure of heart.
Even your servants
Shun the miasma.
The lungs of the poor are tanned.
Tanned like the leather.

 

Edward is a lecturer and writer, mostly on business and politics. He often posts twittaku (double haiku in 140 characters) on Twitter, plus the occasional political limerick.

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