Edward Kelly's Head Poem by Dave SmithWhite

I must have been misled.
On the lies they told, I fed.
A feast laid out and spread,
By lawyered tongue and pled.
Had I dreamed it all in bed;
Imagined it instead?
Has a poet no whit of cred,
But to pick at dangling thread,
Pursue a thought unsaid,
Apprehend a fleeting dread,
Like Edward Kelly's head?
I must have been misled!

I must have been misled.
Up a path to the garden shed:
In panic how I fled,
By manic turn I sped.
I must have been misread,
On a map from A to Zed.
Like Edward Kelly's head:
Separate from his stead,
With bulging eyes that bled,
In the pumping color red,
In the long drop of the dead.
I must have been misled!

I must have been misled.
For aren't they all in-bred.
Not mean but under-fed,
In want of scone or bread,
Ensconced in armor: Ned!
Him of limping gait and tread,
Of tattered clothes once shred
By speeding balls of lead.
To him, I feel I'm wed,
To that phantom, missing head.
Can't see a way ahead.
I must have been misled!