Thursday, November 5, 2015


by sardanapalus sternwall

long ago and far away
i was served tea on a silver tray
in cups of whitest porcelain
and my reputation was without stain

the servants in their silent shoes
brought me the paper with the morning news
which i perused with a silent prayer
of thanks that such was not my share

of fate to be recorded
in these chronicles of a world disordered
by passions insensible
and demands incomprehensible

even then a faint presentiment
alerted me to what it all meant
as each tray was taken away
marking another vanished day

the servants had no faces
the jam and crumpets left no traces
a silent demon smiled upon
the silken curtains carefully drawn

some day the servants will disappear
and i, ensconced in purple fear
will stand at my window as the dawn
reveals the monsters on the lawn