An Anti-shakespearian Anti-sonnet

An Anti-Shakespearian Anti-Sonnet
By A.Z. Foreman

June 27, 1941

What'll I compare her to, this summer day
Of June that shakes the darling buds of May?

This day has given her cheeks and lips a red
Known to no rose. No lipstick and no rouge
Where she lies killed, blood covering her head
With summer dawning on the failed refuge

She begged for at that blue-eyed fellow's door
Who fucked her skull then shot it twice out back
Where fair dark ravens with no nevermore
Now flock and pluck her sockets blank and black.

And this diurnal summer does not fade
Nor cease to shine on many a blond head.
Why would death brag at all about his shade
When in raw daylight she can rot so red?

She can no longer breathe. Though men can see,
Summer can't care, and cannot mean, but be.

1 comment:

  1. Shakespeare died. We sent him to a gas camp, then to Guantanamo. His girlfriend wasn't as lucky.

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