The Boy With The Poison Pen.

 

The boy with the poison pen.

He visited as I slept
last night,
the boy 
with the
poison pen.

I thought I felt
a lonely spirit
watch us
and
follow us
in the woods
that day.

I tried to
leave him behind
but he clung onto
my chakra strings
and as I can be a magnet
for lost and broken things

he did not have to work hard
to suddenly jump in
while I slept
with his lethal inkwell
made from the juice
of a poison bluebell.

first,
he pierced my lips,
then,
tried to stitch them,
filled me with poison ink
so i couldn’t move

or speak
or think
as he smiled
with black teeth
and dusty naked feet

but,
when he laughed
and said he wanted to
take my little boy
I fought the numbness
and dumbness

and I howled.
and I fought
and I roared
and I cursed
until I woke myself up
and I said ,

Boy,give me your cries
your hurts
your wounds
let me wrap them in
fresh leaves and
bury them
where the oak tree
reigns and guards
all who enter
your woods,

let me cry
your tears,
let me soften
your screams
so you don’t have to
jump into other souls’ dreams.

and then,
the boy with the poison pen
fell to the floor
and began to write
with his pen,
as I fell back to sleep
praying the dream
would soon end.

on my wooden floor
the words,
thank you,
greeted me
when i woke up
and a bunch of bluebells
lay sorrowfully
on my pillow

my lips were no longer stitched
i could move, walk and talk
and I sang him
a soft lullaby
under the last
flicker of light
of the moon,

and I heard him
laugh and sing
“ I am free now
as my pen
ran away with
your spoon”
Y’s Words 2017

Published in Blue Nib Magazine Halloween 2017

(Image from pinterest , “Memento Mori” by KimDingwall)