Notes About The Poem

this poem is mostly fiction

Night of the Bore

Once upon a time.
She came with a dirty drill bit and bored a hole in my skull.
I was aware but didn't feel a thing.
She must have slipped a clove of ill intent. 
Into my green tea dream.

What she took was placed in a tiny burlap bag.
What I'd lost was taken to a land called: 
"Hey, those are my gems; please give them back."
 She never did give them back; she just laughed.
Never bothering to backfill the hole in my head.

She disappeared into the night.
Into the owl's cold black eye.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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