Slime by Zora Cross

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I saw it like a lovely purple gem
Lying between green glooms of gentle trees 
A pool, which, when the little shadowy breeze 
Swept it, glowed like a fairy diadem.
And, over it, a reed bent its brown stem.
Even a lily bloomed there. On my knees 
I knelt; and, busied with old memories,
Touched the still waters, idly stirring them.

God's tears! What odour vile arose! What gnats!
What filthy hordes of living beastly things! 
I sickened, as I saw my hand, my wrist
Blacken: and a thick stench of plague-limp rats 
Polluted me. For, poet I, my wings
Had brushed the foulest toad -- a Communist.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 21 March 1931

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on March 21, 2014 7:39 AM.

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