Ode To Margaret Read

Twice a month
They’re stoking a fire,
Brimming with sticks
And poking a pyre.

Twice a month
My body trussed higher;
Townsfolk would visit,
Chest scars admired.

Carnation posies
Burst from my breast,
Guildhall red-riddled,
Then lay me to rest.

Twice a month –
This burning’s habitual –
A sexton collects
My heart with his ritual,

Then returning with care
To my sternum divided,
They light up my stakes
With torches provided.

Sodden with death,
My dismembered heart,
Naked in embers
And forced to restart.

One thought on “Ode To Margaret Read

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