SYLVIA AND DYLAN’S SONNET
Sylvia, do not go gentle into that good night.
Don't tell me what to do Dylan, Achtung!
All wise poets at the end know dark is right.
I'll disappear in darkness as if by bees stung.
It's your cries of anguish I cannot bear.
I'm not dying for you, Bard of Buggerall!
You die, Sylvia, because of truth you fear!
I'll stamp out my own light, dear: my call.
Love is dying like a piece of venison hung.
Are you drunk again, Dylan, bottled, tight?
Lady, what you really need is Freud or Jung.
I'll watch the last wave and say, "How bright."
Sylvia, by your suicide, you stay forever young.
Dylan, do not let your lies knot up your tongue.
Christopher T. George
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