Lord of Little Kingdom

eyes open
to see the Sun has risen
despite my worrisome
faces

the dishes haven’t been done
nothing does
unless I
put myself into it

the Moon
has her japes and capers
as ever
in the tapestries beyond
a mortals
contempt

my dominion holds
for that I am here
to bear
its weighty curses

and all the songs
that father writ,
and all the kisses
mother knit
would not

bear me any nearer
to faith beyond
reality
I am

skeleton

jaded by the eire
of contemptuous
I am

fashioned by the meat
of animated miracle
I am
war and seven hundred more
despicable
turns

manipulator,
aren’t we all?
my bacteria
teems
woe that I will not
give sway

just yet

another day another heartbeat
another exercise regime
keeping busy
as I’ve
no other excuse
for myself

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.

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