Poetry Archives

You have no business, that is why we laughed,
Since you had none a few minutes ago.
As to your wedding, naturally we chaffed,
Knowing the length of time it takes to do
A simple thing like that in this slow world.
Indeed, Max, ’twas a dream.  Forgive me then.
I’ll burn the drug if you prefer.”  But Breuck
Muttered and stared,—”A lie.”  And then he hurled,
Distraught, this word at Franz:  “Prove it.  And when
It’s proven, I’ll believe.  That thing shall be your work.