The Sonnet of the Well Each rung of ladder and distant dog's bark Is a whispered legend that old hags tell, Half-warning, half toothless accursed spell, By fire's dying embers, a cackled," Hark There be underworld demons, landscapes stark As burning Godless catacombs of hell"; I lower myself down into the well, Mossy, damp, eerie, malodorous dark. Touch bottom, cold water splash, far moonlight Gleams skeletal fragments, foul fluids congeal Around blood scraps of devils' appetite, Scattered remnants of interrupted meal – None more monstrous than the cover slammed tight Far above me, a dreadful airless seal.
John Grey is an Australian poet and US resident, whose work has recently appeared in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review, and Hollins Critic. His latest books, Leaves On Pages, Memory Outside The Head, and Guest Of Myself, are available through Amazon.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 