Wednesday, July 18, 2012

The Devon Dead

The Devon Dead

—for Sylvia Plath

The Devon dead are perfect—
They have children and yet
Their breath is cold as death

The British have been dead—
For a long time now ever
Since World War Two

The Anglo-Saxons died—
Way back when during Beowulf
Their language still lives tho

Driving past the cemetery—
The yew trees lean like hydras
Over the morning traffic

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