The Marriage Chest
Musty boards complain under pressure of weight,
The bones, long ago
sucked of their marrow, creak.
Years had trudged by like months of
hibernation;
Now the attic awakes
with begrudging groans.
The room inhales with sickly moans,
Wind tears through thin walls, in lingering
wisps.
Then room exhales with heavy
ferocity,
Beastly, warm, belligerent, prey
stalked inch by inch.
A single window, shadowed with sooty dust,
Looks out to packed cobble roads
and thatched roofs Of an age past. Its roof slanted,
the whole room
Closing in like folded paper.
Oppression oozes from cracks,
An out of ground coffin. This
grave not one, but many.
Haven to objects obscure and
forgotten.
In the heart of the beast lays its prized gem,
A chest, possessor of a
single treasure itself.
Drained of goodness, honey sucked. Cracking blackened wood,
Missing chunks of meat. Adorned with
crude depictions of the fanciful,
Winged creatures of imagination, breathing
animals of truth.
Partners in unity, each
with an unpolished face, curled horns,
Bent limbs, tucked tails. Beady griffin’s
eyes, grumbles of
The lions. Feast upon your fruit. Top sits
upon bottom, crooked
Tooth, like a door popped from its hinge. Molting
ashy feathers,
Iron lock sits squarely upon front, key
stuck in, unturned.
No possession was superior, there only was the marriage
chest,
Innocence clouded bright eyes, ignorance muddied
young mind.
Undeserving of the gifts of gods, she was
but a moth caught to flame.
Fearsomely drawn to the enigma, with prying
fingers denied access. It was beautiful she thought, yet
how she longed to peek inside.
From man she received murderous grimaces,
forbidden as fruit atop trees.
One night she snuck from her husband’s
sleeping form,
And to the box she went, diamond key in
hand.
Thereafter Pandora’s box
lay to rot away. The only Hope
Rested within, burdened by the
weight of the world.
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