Hunger fills me, though not for food. A feast of one, but with a brood, who watches motion, but cannot move. It’s a fancy affair but full of gall. A shining light casts a dreadful pall. No body writes the writing on the wall. There’s mischief afoot in this mellow fray. The faithful now fake, the pack now prey. A club could beat us, but could never slay. Those below walk above in this rotten place. There’s nowhere to go, but there's still a chase. The host is all over yet won’t show his face. A rainbow blazes upon the ground. King without crown, player without sound. Pity the sleeper that comes around. Peter O’Donovan Peter O’Donovan is a scientist and writer living in Seattle, WA. Originally from Saskatchewan, he received his doctorate from the University of Toronto, studying design aesthetics. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Typehouse, Sheila-Na-Gig, Qwerty, and the Torontoist.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This website uses marketing and tracking technologies. Opting out of this will opt you out of all cookies, except for those needed to run the website. Note that some products may not work as well without tracking cookies. Opt Out of CookiesJoin us: Facebook and Bluesky
July 2025
|