whose walls have throbbed
to clench their fist
around your shape
forgive my musty poemthis, my lonely poem
not aired since you last left
to trap your smell inside
like a small purple animal
was it hard to find?
the signs were painted black
when the villagers began to disappear
leave it be, my dark poem
so many fires have burnt it down
it at last understands
only darkness never breaks its promise
"villagers began to disappear"
ReplyDeleteLove that.
./w