in the dead
of the evening
while frogmouths
are feeding
and frogs
may be breeding
but no one’s
around
you’d be
dead-set thick-headed
to venture through
forests
where only
the fauna
hear you
make a sound
but it’s dead
set unfeasible
to call for
a doctor
or hail a
police car
when you
have no pulse
at all
it’s the
dead who tell no tales
don’t update
their status
and they
never answer
when you
try to call
That's a wonderful poem, Clark!
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