Don’t you dare
rest ‘pon that air
‘neath its sheets of woven tweed,
atop its fleshy PVC
Lest the curse upon this here Queen
raise its blade t’ rend you from me
Once, twice, now thrice occurred,
respite on its platform meant another bridge burned.
I, of course, can take no fault,
I set no expectations; reality, I exalt!
I’m innocent; I assure you, there is no need for questions.
No funny deeds, or impure plots, or misaveiled intentions.
I loved my friends, but this pneumatic bed
secured that they, for me alone, are dead.
12/19/23