Friday, January 20, 2012

Hall of Truth

I sweep the steps of Pharaoh’s Pleasure Palace. You stumble in, drunk on cheap wine and looking to warm your cockles. When I was fair, I turned away your kind. My ruination did not add to your appeal. 

Yesterday, you kicked a boy for failing to service you. I bandaged him up in the alley. His mum gave me bricks for the fire. Same ones I set, glowing warm, under the seat in your carriage. There’ll be enough time to unhitch the horses, but no cabman will think to save you from burning. 

I hope Amenti eats your wasted heart.

No comments:

Post a Comment