MARINA GIPPS - The Necromancy Whim

All the townspeople disappeared
except for a man with very rotten teeth.
Fetal positioned on his manifesto,
he can proofread in his sleep.

But today he is dreaming he is
away on a Roman holiday,
away from truly ordinary people.

He is with flag-draped coffins;
He is with forlorn hand,
laden with shrapnel.

But most importantly,
night-riding on his bicycle
without a light.

MARINA GIPPS

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-necromancy-whim/