Shadowed island memoried comes flying
out of time on gruesome wings of pages;
this book of words comes buzzing, comes cloying,
comes tripping, shafting dripping images
in my mind. In my shadowed mind I see
a tribe of boys turn bestially from
the rites of humankind, as they dine, free
as pigs unfettered run, I hear the thrum
of hooves on hearts; and homemade darts invade
my head, the dancing, prancing animals
progressed to Mankind’s principals, remade
by Nature’s laws to be—undesirables.
The fly-torn Lord picked up his sword and clove
my naïve mind; and so was story wove.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Photo by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
4/28/04 © Copyright
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