Night of the Bore
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this poem is mostly fiction
Once upon a time.
She came with a dirty drill and bore 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, she just laughed.
Never bothering to back fill the hole in my head.
She disappeared into the night.
Into the owl's cold black eye.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2017
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