I built a moat,

hammered down a sign, hand-written

biting scrawl, the legend “Ere Be Monsters”

screams at passers by

and just in case they think

of asking for the draw bridge

to be lowered, to come

inside and visit the land of the self siege,

they first have to negotiate the mine field,

to cover their noses from the smell

of plague that I pump into the air

as a warning, to cross their souls

and brace themselves for the sight

of scythes being sharpened

as a legion of black prepare

their symbolic ritual;

for no one gets into the inner kingdom,

not in Oz, not with a tin man in tow,

not anywhere with Dorothy,

even if she is a friend of yours,

as I have happily embraced

that charming woman.

 

This kingdom is sacred

and as I keep the drawbridge raised

and stir the moat with snarling

fiends, those that get through the land

that has been under siege for 500 days

are rewarded with a smile

from Cordelia’s Fool.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016