Meditation #34 - for Jack
Assassins learn to accept
being reviled by their prey,
huddled doves, ineffectual in their cote;
by superiors, wary headmasters, waiting.
For their own-made
trap to spring and bite
the hand by which it's fed.
Weakness fears ability (like water in the lungs)
drawn-out in pneumonia; immediate
in drowning. And whether pulse is paused
by bullet or garrote wire, we
exist, yet. As necessary evils to blame, walking
dark suits, tailored perfection, as only an undertaker
would notice, dressing a nameless corpse.
Disclaimer:This work is not affiliated in any way with the ABC spy series Alias, or, for that matter, Mr. Sark, whose poetry--until such time as he wishes to make it public--remains unsung, unfeted, and largely unknown.
by: Neftzer 2002 (c)
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