Who lives here?

poem, Poetry, speculative poetry, , , ,

Smoke rises from a broad stout chimney
set in a scorched tiled roof
pushing past tall grasses
and gone to seed poppies

I find a large casement and
look through to see a small pantry
lined with deep wooden shelves
each full of meat joints blown with flies

From a smaller dirty window I see
a mound of glittering coins
dotted with golden torcs and platters
a clue to danger

Time to run!

Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond

19 thoughts on “Who lives here?”

  5. Oh yeah, clear. Graphic. Cinematic.
    Especially awestruck by the (apparently many) fly-buzzed meat joints!
    I’m not sure, after that sight, I’d have hung around long enough to seek out (nor look through!) any other windows.
    It doesn’t much matter to me WHO lives there…I’m g-o-n-e!!!

    Devil takes the hindmost, eh?

    This is marvelously told, Kim!! Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  7. Oh dear, anyone who can live amongst the fly-blown meat has got to be one dangerous hombre. Maybe case the joint from a distance and see if anyone even lives there anymore. Worth a shot! You brought the adventure up close and personal with your details.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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