Bank Manager

Darkness chokes the hovel centre.
Gold and incense, cloaks and winter.
Spiny digits arc the table
holding every fate and fable.

Snap, the photo of the mistress.
Snap, the photo of the wife.
At the window in the distance
ruins of a castled life.

Rooks about the royal circle.
Eschers maze the mental focus.
Sunless heart and sunless gaze.
A mouth of rotting teeth and locusts.

And I am here amid the thunder.
Tears of flies and I am under.
Liquid pigs of parallax.
A sodden street for broken backs.

Piece by piece he makes his play.
Flitting fingers dance like knives.
Placing jigsaw pieces down
and making puzzles of our lives.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.