pitter patter of tiny feet

rat-a-tat of bullets ripping sheets

orange spears of flickering candles

casting opaque shadows on strips of flannel

digging deeper, ripping up the dirt

slowly covering holes in the shirt



the man in the long black coat

stands unsteadily at the edge of the moat

doing his best not to gloat

as the sand, cascades down all around the sacrificial goat

as its ripped bleeding throat

drains over the distended belly, as it bloats



swallowed up consumed by this world

in the belly of the beast all curled

buried in the grave, six feet under

as the veil is rent asunder

silver coins glinting on the eyes, all bright

weeping silver teardrops, in the watery moonlight

© 2018 Michael D Emmerich