Saturday, June 8, 2013
The Tale Of Mannie Sluu
Through darkness I do go
Trekking where to, I do not know.
See me swathing with forthright absence
Into the very air with lighted
Wax and branch.
Were it any other night,
I would so placidly be home,
Legs propped and spinning
Tales of me ‘n you, but
It’s growing late and I must search
For you, my Mannie Sluu.
Of dread, in dreary mist and sand,
Dear Mannie laid one across
The Captain’s spine, then,
Relented not to pay out with time.
My sweet, sweet warrior, dear
Mannie Sluu, where are you?
If ever you cared to ere with caution,
The townsfolk would seek less judgment,
And I would be home in mine own
Dream. But, alas, I must follow now
I would like to scream out my extreme
Desire at this point, which is to hasten
Your doom because of the all consuming
Dampness of this place tonight. But, yea,
Certain townsfolk would perhaps hear me
From across this bog. I would be found out,
And so would you. Thus, that would end my
Tempest, but a new one would begin with
The hatred for your captures, your captures and you.
Oh, where are you, my dear Mannie Sluu?
Ann Klein 01.21.07