Tonight's Poet Corner: The Unfortunate

The Unfortunate
by Belinda Roddie

You can bury a book
deep

in the sand dunes of an ancient
desert king's cold mausoleum,

still cold
even in the intruding sun
where ice does not exist,
only sand
and sun
and king's skulls.

Who knows if extra-
special terrestrials will
unearth your sad relic of
human decency, and the

ink still stands the test of
time, still black, like ash
on a dead monarch's face.