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Where Lies?

Where Lies?

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Published by Iyan Igma
Twisted and slightly humorous dramatic verse about a man who discovers more than that his wife's grave had been defiled.

An excerpt from my book "The Dementia of Iyan Igma," which you can request a free copy of at http://free.iyanigma.com/
Twisted and slightly humorous dramatic verse about a man who discovers more than that his wife's grave had been defiled.

An excerpt from my book "The Dementia of Iyan Igma," which you can request a free copy of at http://free.iyanigma.com/

More info:

Published by: Iyan Igma on Nov 09, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Where Lies?
The call cleared the sleep1 from my eyes
Like a plague of Egyptian flies2.
I donned the first clothes I could find,
Listening to my morbid3 mind.

So I go down the broken street,
With no eager haste in my feet
And a heart that's feeling wary4,
To the curs\u00e9d cemetery
Where I no longer go to mourn


The rotting wife from me torn
By death's cold and unyielding hand,
Which destroys all that one has planned.
And as I reach the iron gate,
Whose cherub5 has a rusted pate6,


My mocking mind says, "You're too late
To stop the thieves who desecrate."
Granite leans, and angels sag;7
My apprehensive feet I drag
To the corner where lies a hole


And where recently lay a soul\u2014
Lifeless, in supine position,8
Waiting in decomposition.
How could this stench not have debunked9
The desire to stir the defunct10?

s l e e p : the drowsiness and the mucous that collects when one's asleep
plague. . . flies: see Exodus 8:21, 24
morbid: dark , demented, twisted, gloomy
war y: cautious, on edge
cherub: angelic figure
pate: head
granite. . . sag: the tombstones, markers, and monuments
supine position: lying on its back
debunked: stopped, halted
10defunct: dead
Carrion11 circle in the air,
And, lo, I see some strands of hair

Strewn in the grass the dew did wet.
Is this the hair I once did pet?
Ants bustle off with gobs of flesh.


Was this the skin I did caress?
But peering into the abyss
That seemed her company to miss,
Only darkness could I there find,
As would her eyes by death now blind.


I pick up a casket splinter\u2014
Part of the one she did enter?\u2014
And I wonder how this could be.
What could provoke such barbary?12
Where lies the corpse that I've interred13


Where worms and maggots oft have fared14?
What hideous fiend would disturb
The sanctity of this suburb
Where souls reside far from the work
And toils the living'd love to shirk15,


Except it be not by this end,
The path to which never does wend16,
But goes straightly and steeply down
Some six long feet beneath the ground,
Where the living, gasping for air,


Would scarcely seem to have a prayer
Of managing a prison break
If buried alive by mistake?
Oh, how I did want to vomit

11car r io n: scavengers like vultures and buzzards\u2014not dead bodies
12b a r b a r y: barbarous act, cruelty. I acknowledge that this is by all accounts not a
\u201creal\u201d word, though I thought that it was, largely due to the Spanish expression \u201cQue
b\u00e1rbaro\u201d which I equated with \u201cWhat barbary!\u201d instead of \u201cHow barbarous!\u201d and
the Barbary pirates, who were notably cruel.
13interred: buried
14fared: dined
15shirk: skip; avoid; get out of
16we n d : not a traditional go, but a twisted meandering go, more along the lines of the
form the etymology suggests.
With the fury of a comet!

The police knew not who were the blokes;
The only witnesses were oaks.
Since there was naught that I could do,
To my home I speedily flew,
Thinking that there I could bathe,


While my mind spun 'round like a lathe17.
And in my haste I never saw
The rotten meat that worms did gnaw
Scattered like jetsam18 on the way.
My mind was dark; the skies were gray.


The grimy knob I ne'er noted,
Thinking of the dead and bloated,
Until a pungent odor rose
Up to meet my pitiful nose.
Egad! Surely this could not be.


My mind is playing tricks on me.
But dirty footprints marked the path
Through the kitchen and past the bath.
Toward my bedroom the prints head,
And there lying upon my bed


Was a vision that did me chill,
For 'twas my bride that time did kill.
Surely she could not be alive,
For my lonely years have been five.
Yet lying there in her own goo


While aqueous humour19 seeped through,
She fixed me with a steely stare
That seemed to take away my air.
Though missing several of her locks,
She still retained her vocal box,


For I would swear I heard her say,
"My darling, why did you betray?
What is this thing that you have done
To anger your long\u00adsleeping one?"
My mind must have started to fray20.

17l a t h e : Tool used to spin wood around rapidly so that it can be crafted
18j et s a m : debris from ships that is often found floating with flotsam
19aqueous humour: one of the two liquids filling the eye
20fray: come undone, come apart

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