WRITING PROMPT RESPONSE | POETRY
Come Hell Or High Water
The drunkard who sunk into timely sleep
to blend into the forest-floor debris
awoke to the sound of a tic, tic, tic
too close to his confounded cranium
His eyes twitched with every spasmodic tic
and the air grew stiff, ‘till it seemed to heave,
whereupon he felt a subtle tremble
like the wings of a thousand moths flapping
It was something alright, of *grave concern
but it was not of moths’ wings vibrating
but a flowering weed with gnarly roots
entangled all over his clay chassis
Go away, mad whirl, the world heard him say
*come hell or high water, I’ll untangle —
the dross of you, the stink of you, the nerve
of you — your malarky is moldering!
To forget a man and hold a man down
to drown in your putrid portals of dust
is the lowest of low — stop you foolin’
spare me your *preternatural pastimes
And the fairies who frequented the hill
heard his grave moans and, *as if by magic
uprooted the tree and wheeled him around
and patched up, sent him back to his mother
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