The Last Sighting of Merlina
written by: Meg Smith
Tower of London, March 2015
I could follow a trail of black feathers
upon hearing news of your vanishing.
The sun is slanting, over the green grass,
and the monument to the beheaded.
You can’t even prove your true hunger,
and this I know.
Nothing like flight, but plenty of food.
Some wicked bridge is calling,
and this is what makes your choice.
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