the last supper - a vision
let us dine alone tonight
candles will not bother us
neither will the wine
a table of truth
a glass of denial
the soup made of words
the stake of the dying
do not forget to bring flowers
the salt of the sacred
the can full of lies-
outspoken, inclined to
swallow the ice
desert in bed
as we usually do
ice-cream and chocolates
the meal of the dying
do not forget to bring flowers
This poem was written by Eliza Simon on Mar 24, 2007.
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