Lab No More

Mon Dec 02 2024

I shot my muse down in starlight
Watched his soul fly up sky high.
He’s a skeleton, sardine ribs
In a metal tin.
I saw my burdens disappear,
Overhead vultures settled near.
I mopped up his last pawprints,
Leaned the mop outside to rinse.
I still haven’t journaled in over a year:
My pages blank, I saw them wilt,
Watch the mophead turn green instead.

Your words, not mine.
I ran away in fear.
I ducked down under oaky limbs,
Found a froggy creak and lost my scent.
Search dogs prattled overhead, hellbent
Still no words, no more words.
These words, I’d let them out if I could.
Vultures swim in circles right above;
They promise to listen past my beating heart for my final words.

I’m the lab no more, lab no more,
My sweating palms fumble my bronze scepter like a will and testament.
I hold my crown down as low as it can go;
I sold my throne as low as it would go.

I hear footsteps in my sleep.
They bleed into my dreams,
Where I’m still on the run.
I close my eyes to remember that I once dreamed of heaven,
I open them instantly to dirt and moss and rock, searchlights and rotary blades.
This is the lab no more, they call out,
And they found him lying face down, curled like a dog.