May
14
I.Your arrival came unanticipated, an interruption
To an otherwise uneventful evening.
We had hastily abandoned our comfortable station at the faucet, leaving
The water to run and the basin full of soaped up dishes
And had thrown our bodies to the floor
As you made your manic circles over the stove.
II.
A few minutes into daybreak, we readied
Our foolhardy selves for the hunt.
Wearing a Panama unraveling at the crown and wielding
A feather-duster flail, Matthew led, as I, his Pancho,
Cloaked in deerskin gloves and a veil of terry,
Brought up the rear of our two-man procession.
III.
We journeyed throughout the house, leaving in our wake
Ignited lamps and open windows, portals for your escape,
Hoping to ensure we would not have to bear
The brunt of your brutal assaults and virulent hate.
The chimney was empty and the library clean;
Not until we had climbed the precipitous stair,
was your wicked and outlandish lair,
frightfully foreboding, finally seen.
Slowly the curtain was pulled, exposing your den,
And with waves of confusion did this sight send,
For there laid a thick trail, littering the approaching path,
Not of victims nor jewels, but mid-century bric-à-brac.
Yet, still haunted by your winged hand,
Not a minute longer could we withstand.
My hero took up his weapon, handing the wall heavy blows.
I stood behind, To Hell with Thoreau!
Envisaging a ferocious brood, an enraged family
To screech, barrel and swoop, (at best) a calamity,
We had at that moment caught on
That you, black ghost, were not just solitary,
But wholly -- and embarrassingly -- imaginary.
Sometime late last week we discovered there was a bat in Leni's half of the house. As our hostess was spending the week in London, it was Matt and I's duty to get the thing taken care of. Here's a little poem I wrote about the experience, with (as some of you may recognize) apt guidance and inspiration from the great battle epic, Beowulf.
I love this.