Uncategorized09 Mar 2009 04:34 am

There is no one left
to remember
that boiling water in eggshells
will catch me out.

I remain:
the homely child,
torturer of cats,
bereft of any power
save lack of conscience.

Even cold iron
has given way
to silicon and plastic.

What kills me by increments
is not your black metal
or mummy-dry churches:
it’s the boredom
of seasons passing unnoticed
while I hump my ass
over a keyboard
to pay the rent.

I had centuries of joy
under sidhe hills
before my exile.

Human tedium
is the slowest strangle.
But you know all about that.


One Response to “Changeling, by Virginia M. Mohlere”

  1. on 26 May 2010 at 1:44 am allanbard

    Nice poem! is it published in a book or something like that? I guess it’s some sort of haiku, sorry for my ignorance… let me know your opinion about some of my poems please:

    Love and happiness will be around,
    as all the chains will disappear!
    And Mountaineers will climb their mount,
    and there won’t be any tear…
    my Tale of The Rock Pieces

    Let’s watch the moon, let’s meet the sun!
    let”s hear soon the way the Deed was done!
    Let’s listen to the sounds the shiny crystals played,
    let’s welcome crowds of creatures good and great!
    my the Opposite Of Magic

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