I once found the tail of a thread of a yarn
unravelling out from the back of my mind.
It led to a bed in the back of a barn
where a child was in chains watching captors who dined
on the bones of his brothers, his sisters and then,
with a swish of their tongues would torment him again.
“Sleep if you can, while we digest your kin.
Cough their pelts out in hair-balls to throw in the bin.
Sleep if you can through the stench of your sorrow,
for you know we will have you for breakfast tomorrow”
He wept, never slept, for his end was in sight
and his tears seeped away through the barn’s wooden floor.
They dripped on the lips of a creature of night
who awoke to the saline invite, wanting more.
This ogre arose, bursting up from below
and he spied the boys captors, all sated and full,
from the meal of the mortals, which made them sleep so
they could not be awoken by the roar of a bull.
The ogre was ravenous, unleashed his claws
he ripped and he shredded the men where they lay.
The boy watched the carnage, so hopeful because
he knew that salvation approached with the day.
For the dawn was swift coming, his foes would be dead.....