Le Tempeste

Withered veins worn deep inside the tomb

Concealing what has happened to the man.

Once so full of life and varying degrees of passion

Now gray and decaying right before me.

In my cauldron is beautiful white hemlock

I fed him soup and told him it was to give him strength.

My life fulfilled by the code of 8 words.

I do harm to nobody yet I find myself wanting revenge.

So as he choked and sputtered I watched him carefully.

I didn’t want him to fall down and get hurt

He simply needed to die.

Labyrinths with jaded Sarcophaguses line the walls

I rub my hand down my face as I walk

Pull a valve that releases methane into the room

Where he lies, barely breathing.

I think of the irony

That his last breath will be filled with gas.

I watch his chest rise, then fall, for the last time.

I take the dagger from my waist

Cut open his chest

Take out his heart

I wrap it carefully in bull hide

Walk out into the forest

Lay it on the ground

To leave it for the wolves.

He said I once had his heart

This is the only time in his life he told the truth.