Entry Four (Allegory) Poem by Alistair Plint

When the rules of the game
change
on the blood exchange
All eyes staring
looking at the wrong thing

The leather bound book
we call an album
used as a journal
builds dust on it's covers
The words fade
into invisible ink
as it gets old in it's telling
older in it's
reading

The hand carved
antique jewellery chest with the
one legged ballerina
spinning circles to
chinese tracks
still positioned carefully
dead-centre
on the dressing table
in front of the mirror

Mental note:
Don't look up
Don't look in
that dresser mirror

When mirrored eyes meet
you'll see the evil unveiled
There's to be no shame
in the crying



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