19th Gothic Breakdown
Do you feel so clever,
Leading me to this denouement?
Even the least-attentive reader guessed
I was a zero-dimensional character
In your poor, obscure Gothic mystery.
Gossamer-in-chill-breeze window dressing,
Afterthought of a hastily written bit part,
Knowing I’m soon to be killed off
In one of its last three chapters,
Requiring a mere sharpened phrase stabbed in my back.
Though I see what’s coming, I wander around,
Just to keep implausible plot moving forward.
Dreary castle, dim, guttering torchlight…
Playing my part to its fullest.
For when blood axe falls, erasing
Your need for me, chasing aloof hero, I’ll wait,
Rusted chains clanking, spectral memory…
A constant nightly reminder
Of what you might have had:
Substance, form, not