Other Places,
Other Times
After the War
There are no keys
for these rooms without doors
that litter spills from.
There are no ceilings above
long and empty corridors,
only stars in a dark sky.
There are no lights
in this city without people that
a chill wind sweeps through.
There are no memories
among the scattered bones
that feral animals pick through.
Bad Fairy Tale
This one doesn't have a prince or a witch.
And, like most, no fairy either. Just some
people oddly costumed who listen intently,
as if bewitched, to fulsome assertions and strange
fabrications. Then sally forth with clubs and cuffs
to storm some ramparts and make their ogre a king.