At the Gates of Gath
A poem. Something like the first line of this occurred to me when I lay in delerium after suffering toxic shock a while back. I recollect composing a mighty fantasy epic while sundry doctors of the medical arte punched shunts in my right kidney and pushed catheters up where catheters ought not go. That epic was a serious affair and ended with a pun of intolerable cruelty, all of which, save for the first line, whirled down the memory hole as my mind returned. Recently, as that line reoccurred to me, sundry other lines also popped up, and I have arranged them here as a sort of rough draft of a rough craft. The meter is a bit shaky as is the stanza structure, but it might serve for whimsy.
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