another hour’s matinee,
a dagger in the heart of day;
he needs to stay, he ought to stay —
she calls, he cannot keep away

he had a path, he had a plan
that stopped the second she began:
the curse, the fever of a man,
the fire and the frying pan

he’s known the ought, he knows the should,
and he would stop it if he could,
to save his life — his livelihood —
she calls, though, and he’s gone
for good

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “sirène”

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