The Castle on the Hill

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


The castle on the hill ‘neath the darkling stars stood
Not a reminder of that which was, but yet a threat
And ever-present statement of that which is now and still.

It’s owner, a famous count, though not well respected
A blood-soaked ledger, his past; and spikey future
Inevitably. Preferring nights and weekends he rarely

Mixed with the peasantry nor toured the countryside
Save in cowled carriage lead by 6 black horses (or was it
Eight?); frightful beasts though well-groomed and bred.

For the life of me I cannot remember much of my first
Visit; though fevered and sore throated I spent a fortnight
Recovering. Some dream of two or three fair skinned

Madams or Misses voracious and vixenly I recall,
But that is all. I maintain to this moment
No other influence than perhaps the night

Airs and fevered dreams, though it always seemed
There was a shadow in the dark. It always seemed
A lingering gaze, a looming presence, an intention hovered.

And on my wrists and neck these odd marks. It always
Seemed and seems so still the question was of
My own will and what I wanted. An offer was made

And apparently I accepted. Yet I cannot remember
That price. A pact’s a pact and it’s too late I guess. I will
Just have to get used to the taste of roaches and mice.


Submitted: February 13, 2021

© Copyright 2021 mcomito. All rights reserved.

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