For a few minutes at a time you can rest here
behind gray walls and a paper thin door
before called back out to a fluorescent-lit graveyard
the realm of weak monarchs
who walk empty rows of fallow fields
in search of subjugation
or at least a pool of water calm enough to use as a mirror
that they can stop and stare into
to convince themselves they still have on their crowns
Every now and then I pick up my copy of Lovecraft’s complete works and read something from it. Today it was The Shunned House. It can be hard to separate the man from the writing. He was horribly racist and quite literally xenophobic. He also knew how to write horror like no one else could.
Photo by Pro Church Media on Unsplash
2 responses to “Monarchs”
Great poem, great image!
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Thank you (: