Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2018
It sits at the base of the stairs
that lead to the attic;
It sits on the landing floor just
before the basement door;
It rests in a liminal space.

Big, person-sized, it fills the end of the hall
way in the very back.
Carved by an entrepreneur de pompes funèbres with
a knack for carpentry and a deep
undying love for her husband.

Glass inlaid reveals the gears
within, once plated in bronze
but now with only a dull luster.
They haven't been treated gently
by that which they keep.

Two massive pendula swing
back and forth, back and forth, alternating
currents, propelled by springs
set in motion long before
Louis XIV lost to William III

The children like to sit and
watch the hands spin with the
pendula "tick" "tock" "tick"
as the face and hands are a
mottled bronze to match.

During Black Mass it's best not to
watch though. For sometimes a smell
emanates from the spaces between
the gears, "kcit" "kcot" "kcit" si
lla uoy raeh, dna emit seog
                                       sdrawkcab.
When will it be Halloween?
Andie
Written by
Andie  M
(M)   
170
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems