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Lemonade with a Dead Sheep

by Marcus Lane

And children drunk on
And laughter.

That Welsh picnic
Has lasted forty years
And will last forty more
In dream

And in nightmare.

The stream babbled
Over pebbles,
Fern fronds
Brushed our sun-browned shins

Till the dead sheep
Slugged us in the guts.

Bloated and bulbous,
The body dammed the stream,
Its lifeless eyes
Crawling with life.

Those pearly marbles were
A child’s looking glass into death.

The pebbles we hurled
In reckless revulsion
Were the silent screams
Of our corrupted souls

And those dead sheep thuds
The dawn of our mortality.


Posted on 06/24/2010
Copyright © 2021 Marcus Lane

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Linda Fuller on 06/24/10 at 11:07 PM

The idyllic party rudely crashed. This has quite a lot to like in it, and like it I do.

Posted by Therese Elaine on 06/24/10 at 11:47 PM

This reminds me so much of a quote from Cronenberg..."Do you remember when you found out you wouldn't live forever? People don't talk about this, but everybody had to go through it because you're not born with that knowledge." What an unsettling way to learn about such things -but you crafted this quite masterfully!

Posted by Charlie Morgan on 09/15/10 at 10:28 AM

...marcus, this is so stong; life crawling on lifeless eyes; child's mortality, corrupted souls.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/12/10 at 04:34 PM

Well, this is as vivid as it gets. Quite the transition from fun picnic to the sheep discovery. Congrats on POTD!

Posted by Linda Fuller on 12/13/10 at 01:48 AM

So glad to see this as POTD.

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