The Arts Quarter

[En_Route]

Following Lennard's albeit seemingly not wholly disinterested initiative, I attach a poem of recent fashioning. Polite incomprehension is the most I hope for.

Non potest delegare

We fell in love
at a funeral of innocence;
you the trophy girlfriend,
all beehive and mink,
of a lamenting Uncle;
me a translator from the original Italian,
standing in for a friend
who moonlighted
as a gravedigger.
Earth spattered
the Uncle's brogues
with clumsy irreverence;
it was a day for symbols.