Circadian Poems

A place to celebrate poetry, poets, and the creative spirit.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

The House on the Point -- Part III

The House on the Point
By Horatia Karrille

Part Three

A figure stood above,
Silhouette in the night
A hand with no glove
Gave Drew quite a fright.

“No more violence here
On this, my true land.
No girl needs to fear
To die by your hand.”

“Who are you, lovely spirit?”
Janné asks with a thrill.
A slick as a ferret,
Drew moves in for the fill

A vivid force yet unseen
Sent him flat on his back.
The ghost looked a Queen,
Treated boy like a sack.

“I did it! I confess!”
Drew’s hands covered his face.
He cowered and wept
To avoid her torn lace.

“I don’t know what hits me.
I can’t justify
A lovely girl’s mystery
Sets me all awry.”

“I know,” said Janné.
“Why else would I come?
To trap you this day;
I don’t fall for scum.”

“You knew I was guilty?”
The blood left Drew’s face.
“You think I am filthy?”
Outside he did race.

A scream and a splash
Were all that were left.
The murderer made hash,
The “dead girl” upswept.

Ghost, girl, and Janné
All joined their three hands.
Don’t get in the Fates’ way,
They’ll revenge their own lands.

Horatia Karrille is a poet.


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