Fabius Lind’s Days
A. Leyeles
1937
Fabius Lind’s days are running out in blood.
Red serpents of failures empty his veins.
In his head—white muddy stains. Confusion.
And a heavy load on his heart.
He could have . . .
He could have . . .
Gray spiderwebs of melancholy
Cover his mind, veil his eyes
And a strange taut bow
Aims at the tip of his nose.
Fabius Lind, sunk in contemplation,
…
Please login or register for free access to Posen Library
Already have an account?