A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.
Love is a question mark, not an exclamation point.
If love is the mark, what is the question?
Carrion to be, a subsiding beast
over which this sooty vulture impends?
Sweating blocks of ice, under heaped sawdust,
waiting on man with a hook?
A mongoose weaving
under the hooded cobra poised to strike?
A charge of dynamite,
with smoke curling over the hole of the period?
A salvage operation,
magnet crane lifting and stacking crushed cars?
What is the question?