GRENDEL'S AUNT (an original poem) - Part 12

in #poetry8 years ago (edited)

On Brighid's small door Grendel scratched with his claw
and the faery finagled it open.
She stood there avaping an iodine herbal
exhaling its gasses all swirly and purple.
She asked what he needed and realized at once,
without drugs he had lost all his ick.

A comfit of strifeflower Brighid presented,
a mint Grendel eagerly sucked.
“My dill” she complained, “went and pickled itself.
I shouldn't have left it alone on this shelf.
And I can't understand what my thistle's been thinking.”
(Her herbs possessed minds of their own.)

But she juiced his injection and jammed it downvein
and the hellion came back to life.
He mumbled his payment must wait 'till the knight
had produced him a check for his role in the fight.
So she cut off a chunk of his cheek for downpayment;
the slome barely felt it peel off.

Aunt Dwenndis came calling the day after that
and demanded her share of the proceeds.
But Grendel decided he'd had it with humans
their soaps and colognes made him sick to his rumens.
So Dwenndis could fly out Hymm's way on her broom ends
and pick up the money herself.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

"Grendel's Aunt" is protected under a Creative Commons license stipulating no derivatives and full attribution.

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I've been learning here lately that poetry is tougher than I thought. Spend more thinking about one sentence than an entire page sometimes. nice work!

Thank you. For a while I could produce one four-stanza section per day if I had nothing else going on. But I rarely have nothing else going on, so it takes a minimum of two days to get this much written! I completely feel your pain. :)