She Followed Him Home

Image by Artie_Navarre from Pixabay

Publication Date: July, 2020

Genesis: A good friend of mine came and stayed sometime last year, and we decided to write a poem each.

I took down a book from the shelves – if memory serves, it was ‘The Illuminatus! Trilogy’ by Robert Anton Wilson – and we each gave the other a random page number. Once on the page, we took five words each at random from that page, just by letting our eyes wander and see where they settle. Thus armed with a list of ten words, we each set about writing a poem incorporating all the words, and in the order in which they arose from the text. The words were;

  • followed
  • sorry
  • dirt
  • house
  • said
  • want
  • knee
  • astronaut
  • wellington
  • others

It is quite a dark poem, and I put that down, at least in part, to the fact that I was working on ‘Beatrix & B.B.’ at the time, and was somewhat infused with that dark energy of a woman on a mission of revenge.

She followed him home
Through the gathering dusk.
In a way, she felt sorry for him.
He had no idea what was coming.
No idea what karma even looks like
When your eyes and mouth
Are full of dirt.
Even as she walked
The empty streets,
Keeping him close enough to see
And far enough so as not to alert him,
She already knew his house.
Really knew it.
Neighbours. Number of windows.
Alarm system. Lights. Dogs.
Never let it be said she was sloppy.
I want justice, she thought.
I want him on his knees.
I want him fighting for air
Like a deep-space astronaut
With a crack in his helmet.
This was her Waterloo.
Tonight, she was Wellington.
Tonight, she would crush this
Jumped-up little Napoleon.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow, she’d go after the others.

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