Midweek Review
The Moribund State
By Lynn Ockersz
Bone-thin bodies drift ashore,
In a solemn funereal tempo….
Bullet holes gape out of foreheads,
Gagged mouths and bound limbs,
Greet passers-by dashing for queues,
Bringing back harrowing memories,
Of the Mailed Fist of past years,
But what’s plain and beyond doubt,
Is that there’s a growing Black Hole,
In the minds of the isle’s overlords,
That makes history-learning a lost cause.