Unheard In The Dead Of Night Poem by Goddo Faggotte

Like an awkward ogre sobbing out a heavy-duty symphony,
the long-haul, articulated its cantankerous way
into the sleeping town.
All low down double bass of oboe, cello and kettle drum,
it rumbled and rattled out its slow sad tune
– the music of this circus was a funeral dirge.

The throttling sounds awoke the shivering wretch
where she lay crumpled after the beating and abuse,
like the discarded print of yesterday’s news.
Her kaross, threadbare and blood-wet,
was all that covered her broken body, bruised and black.
Her unbroken spirit, all that remained to remind.

He was The Night-Crawler, dragging the tired horse
and rusted trailers from filthy town
to the sordid city no-one trusted,
where the circus trawled like bottom feeders:
- Never Seen Before …
- Man-Eating Beasts …
- Death-Defying and Denying …
- Wild Black Ape-Woman from …

This is why he travelled by night, all cloak and dagger,
for soon under the weight of complaints they’d stagger,
when the townsfolk, in the bright light of the sun,
quick-quick the clowns would have to pack and run.
All who saw the state of the acts and animals of creation
would raise the alarm, in all their righteous indignation.

“Hurry now – use the sjambok if you must! ”
The steel-barred cage was pulled and pushed,
battered and bent as was she.
The old tusker strained and the pulley splintered.
Down crashed the cage to an open door.

She ran, she limped, she tripped and fell
all the while hearing the shouts and the dogs.
The Night-Crawler shone the needles of light
out into the dense darkness of the night
holding her withered form in the golden thread.
… only then did he fire.
… the shot went unheard on that dead night.
… as the nightstars filled her eyes, she sighed
… and felt the warmth of home fill her heart.

“No, leave it – the dogs will finish it! ”