polvo magazine

essays, reviews, poetry, short stories, everyday observations, contemporary art

SCOTTISH RITES

with one comment

The year’s last light spilling in before dark. A flood of gold on the floor.

Winter, on its haunches, panting.
This is when we slaughtered meat, tasted the beer and the new wine.

A fortnight of feasting, and then we chased trolls.

Our fore fathers had a ritual for this, but we just swatted at stains

messy little monsters

as they multiplied before our eyes.

How to spot a troll? After two weeks of drink?

“When men make a road, trolls disappear.”

Does this mean, we should build more roads?

By Alice Van Buren

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Written by admin

March 7, 2010 at 4:34 pm

Posted in Poetry

Tagged with ,

One Response

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  1. The subject is fully clear but why does the text lack clarity? But in general your blog is great.

    gualetar

    March 22, 2010 at 2:32 pm


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