The maw

I haven’t written a poem

in days, but I read

Lord of the Flies today

and now I would liken

walking into the woods,

into a deep forest,

beneath a suffocating canopy,

to being sucked, boneless,

into the maw of a blackhole –

a savage emptiness

as ebony as Jack’s merciless pupils

and Roger’s desire to taste blood –

and I think of the beast’s wish

to find safety in the wrinkled bark,

in the slippery creepers

festooning the forest floor,

only to be torn to pieces

by painted boys, on the beach.


Written on April 24th.

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Image by Захари Минчев from Pixabay

4 thoughts on “The maw

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