corpse

There were whirring nerves
when they heard
about the living ghost.

He brought a bouquet
and a grey stone flail
to the people’s court.

Wilted blooms with no thorns, 
a daisy chain and a hilt
of bone – a serotonin rort.

Will he kill us,
do we invite him?
What do we offer,
will we like it?

They shook the human hand
fleshy and bland
of the holy corpse

Their minds went inert,
when they had learned
that they had killed him years before

~~~

‘Two Figures’, Keith Vaughan 1966

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