24 May 2012
When no breeze rustles
The lush summer leaves
And the suffocating heat hangs
Among the trees,
I want to take you for a gentle stroll,
Along the river, to a place I know,
Where a dirty old sheet
Hangs in a tree along the bank,
Creating a shelter, muddy, dank,
The murder tent, full of odds and ends,
Broken bottles, necks of former friends,
Fragments of bones and blood,
A spot or puddle here and there,
Among other remains;
Snipped off fingers, locks of hair.
I'll let you see my secret lair,
But it's the last visit
You'll ever make.
Anywhere.
Murder Tent • Opuss № I