oh we know your sort come around here
is a flower that weeps all Spring of the fallen
into disgrace a teenage girl made pregnant
by elves overnight her parents fled to the far
north houses where a man was to be found who
could cure such things given time to arouse
his potions from the ice in which the monster
waited on hand and foot man and boy they both
exerted pressures unique to the tide of moments
unstoppable now in its zest for sap it rose
upon them clutching itself in religious desire
to at last sink back and know nothing
more of the waves which had first jerked it up and off into the woods chasing breadcrumbs alone
with itself again overwintering under bitumen and flags the whole deal itself undone besides
.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment