Reunion (2)


December winds moan,
As tomb-gratings groan,
With Lorna bestirred from her sleep;
She slides back the stone
Committed to vows she must keep.

You cuckold! you ve nailed
Her coffin, but failed
To fasten the wooden lid tight.
So Lorna, unjailed
Returns to set certain wrongs right.

The castle dogs smell
The odors that tell
Them something putrescent is near
No, Lorna! you yell
(Of you, that s the last your dogs hear).
12-26-90

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