Wednesday, March 3, 2010


No intellectualism allowed; he laughed and said
Is intellectualism a word?
So they talked about life, the good and the bad
The cruel and the absurd
They talked about love and the order of things
Of irony and fate
Of books and songs, bridges, moth’s wings
While the music played

Somewhere in the night a lone stray arrow
Concealed in the murky dark
Finds an open vulnerable target
And makes its deadly mark
As silence becomes a deafening answer
The laughter ends
Each a victim, a solitary dancer
They were friends

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

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