Oona

Can you identify, that ghostly line, between moon and sky, what has been emptied, and other parts denied, on this flood tide, don't need an inquiry, when truth in sight, then simply buried, witness the crime, when you’re in tight, to where rich men dine, some wash down Daiquiri, laugh or fight, it makes them happy, every walk of life, ends with a pity, you should see their wives, by security lights, pooled outside the wire, courses winter twilight, the poor ask why ?