For theirs was a city
Build from staples and paper
But even at its coolest
Its cleanest
Its most paved
They were there
In the gutters
In the furrows
Beneath floorboards
Behind walls
Listening
Watching
Waiting
Probing for weaknesses
And every piece of information
Every chink in the armor
Borne on scurrying legs
Borne on owls’ silent wings
To the great king
Whose domain they had displaces
Who waited on silent throne
To reclaim what was once his
And would be soon again
Sunday, May 17th, 2015
Daily Archive
May 17, 2015
From “The King Under the Fields” by Anonymous
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: abstract, fiction, poem, story |Leave a Comment