A soldier boy ponders his 12yr ghost.
Alongside a thought:
‘What if Socrates was immune to hemlock?’
But does martyrdom solidify a pardon of purpose?
And Miss Bolus sits by her anger
Like a fetus in- utero.
“My father is angry too.”
I make no promises,
To her father.
But if one ate hemlock
And the other
Another bribe would’ve subjected
Broken like the mirror history wrought.
And so I say,
“Don’t look here in anger, darling
I am not family-
Legacy could die
At the end of our kiss.”