August/September 2005

There'll be Grave Dirt Over
the White Corpse of Dora
Liam Davies

In the park
An old lady
Dead on her legs
Smelling of catnip and mullet
Remembers the days
When she fought in a war
And sings songs
From her honey slicked gullet
Lyrics of heartache
Of loving and loss
A cry for attention
A sonnet
Who cares?
Thinks the young man
Eyeing her giro
As he blows holes in her head
With some bullets