La Petite Mort

Sweet murderer return, and poison my senses again
Race me to expiration,
Astride this chariot of the waves,
Hurtling as one towards the end.

A war in which victory comes, but is not sought
The bodies breathe heavy,
Ah, la petite mort!


- a short poem, submitted to a poetry contest for women. I was excluded on several grounds, not least, that of being male. Poetry competitions are a pet hate of mine.


©2009 Copyright Daniel J. Fiasco