The Bone Blade

In William’s House

I find myself desperate.

Such a fool I was to go with him,

all alone,

to this strange place.

He’s locked me in the basement and here I hear whispers.

The corners are alive and they tell me to dig!

Right at the soft spot, a patch of dirt

among the concrete.

So, I do–I dig and break my nails,

a bloody fucking mess

it is–but I don’t stop.

My flesh will crawl with worms before I stop.

Finally, it shows itself

to me. A handle of bone.

The white blade is sharp and carved

with symbols beyond my time.

This ivory knife has known dark deeds

and darker deeds it shall witness.


I am waiting, crouched,

just waiting for that fool to come back down.

The corners are alive. They ask for blood penance.

They ask for mine first!

I don’t want to but I must.

I take my eyes out. Dig the little bastards right out

with my devil’s bone.

And then, wait.


I will go home.

13 thoughts on “The Bone Blade

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