The tangled mass of metal is reflected in their camera lenses. And a Princess lies dead. The twisted hulk of cold steel is ominously silent
broken only by the sound of continuous clicking cameras
which devour her as she lies within; And a Princess lies dead. Finally the clicking stops,
and like the proverbial rats they scurry back into their holes
clutching tightly onto their cameras
as they eagerly await their next victim; And a Princess lies dead.

by Christine E. Maylath

Other poems of CHRISTINE E. MAYLATH (2)

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