Poetry

Mind Palace Muck

I am shunted

between two places.

If life’s a queen,

I’ve lost my aces.

I’ll follow them down

where the brambles go.

Far, far unseen.

Down, down, where the larks all sing.

And flitters past our leafy spring.

I wander down each little road.

Each path and signposts too.

Twist and turn in the undergrowth.

Meets the path where the sky’s not blue.

Nor the croaked turtle’s tune.

Where the living shun most.

I won’t sure pass this way again.

The current slides this way.

Taking you to the slain swan, dear,

So go, don’t pass on your way here.

Go, take care before you’re gone.

And trust, it doesn’t take very long.

For you to soon be lost.

And the Earth will sing a sad song, dear.

You’ll have to reap the cost.

When the mud gets slick

And the good fall sick.

When the going gets tough

And the tar grows rough.

And the birds don’t sing

for he’s lost his wing.

Now good and stuck.

In mind palace muck.

Don’t cross this way ‘gain soon.

Go forth into that

good lovely night,

Quick, here is a little

bit more light.

I bid you a path among the moon.

But stay past three

and the dark finds thee.

Now all this night, you’ll see—

The fae folk sink

deep into your drink.

And it really is time to go

Back through the hedge

Where you went

The path of the rays that

heaven sent.

Lit by her majesty the moon.

But do take care

for hitchhiking fae,

And shake ‘way the wing

That followed you to-day.

For winter and his court do sing.

And oh, what happiness

your death would bring.

You almost missed a feather there.

Death black with a fairy hair.

Go! While you may still take flight.

For the fairies never know

Which way you wither, to and fro.

Don’t cross this road or open

our door.

‘Quoth our raven, ‘Nevermore.’