Pathétique

Poesy plus Polemics

“Tormented Soul”
Sketch by The Pencil is the Power

in a secret black box
with tarnished lead locks

sit wings that I ripped
from faeries who slipped

through fencing I built
from splinters of guilt

no room in my mind
for tiny unkind

impish creatures
whose features

would mock and remind
of crimes I resigned

to bury down deep
inside wrinkles of sleep

I pierced them like thrips
with ragwort stem tips

then chewed them to mash
in a mouthful of ash

and set down my head
near the foot of the bed

on the secret black box
with tarnished lead locks

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