The Harshest Trick
I strolled beneath a barren wood,
feeling maligned, misunderstood.
Late night attempts at cloning sheep
bore little else but lack of sleep.
My research grant had been denied,
so I, exhausted, bleary-eyed,
set out on foot to clear the mind,
to leave unfinished work behind.
I heard a scream from up ahead,
looked up and saw some steps that led
to a small cottage on the hill
whence that shriek came, so sharp and shrill.
Then, walking through the open door,
a feeling I'd been here before
soon filled me with a sense of dread,
a primal urge to bolt instead.
The light had gone from gloam to gloom,
the darkness, heavy, in the room.
Descending stairs, unknown below,
footprints gave off a creepy glow.
The tanks I saw gave me the sweats,
for there, familiar silhouettes:
suspended in that gelatin
were newly forming skeletons.
Enshrouded in the finest mesh,
they grew translucent, living flesh.
A figure fiddled with the tank,
and as he turned, my heart stopped, sank...
The harshest trick for Halloween:
for he was I, in ghastly sheen.
----------
for the Halloween Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
written on 10/25/22
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