The villain, all top hat and curled mustache, laughs hideously as

She is pulled inexorably toward the grinding spitting teeth of the blade

Wood chips and sawdust littering the table and floor.

Where is her hero?  Where?

Bundled like sticks across the unforgiving rails, train chug-chugging toward her

The tracks curving and slithering like a serpent under the sun-baked prairie

While the villain stands aside with his grimace of a smile and waits.

Why are there no hoof beats?  Where is the rescue?

Dangled like a sack of potatoes over the deep chasm she does not even bother

To dream of her golden haired knight,

there is not even a peep as she plummets to the whitewater below.

The villain walks away sullenly, empty without his opposite.

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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