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
4/28/04 © Copyright