The House of Asterion
Walk through the coolness of my ancient house;
reflect on how I’ll be the death of it
one day. We are not one; each of us is sought out
for what we can – uniquely – give the world.
Such obvious wealth assaults the more refined.
The plane trees do not deflect the sea-spray
that lashes the courtyards; that stings my eyes,
extinguishing the sights that were on fire…
My patience is a thread at breaking point…
I rule my lands with velvet-covered fists.
I’m going to kill the chosen one and leave
the bones strewn as a sign of what’s to come…
The House of Asterion
© R J Dent (2011)
R J Dent 