The Elf-King

[tomsdisch]

You must believe me when I say
I'm sorry she is dead
She was my mainstay, my love and my life
And though she was never exactly my wife
I adored her in excess of thought
And now she haunts the woodland paths
The parking lots and restaurants
Where we were wont to take our walks
And I cannot express
The love and loss and dread I feel
But worse than these the daily need
To feed a hunger that cannot be satisfied
For blood, blood that can be made to flow
Across the leafmold and the moss
Whether a songbird's blood or mine,
A dainty squirrel's or some poor child's
Who happens by and asks me why
I lie upon the grass
And seem so desolate
Such lovely hair is hers but lovelier
The throat that might have sung
That very day some hymn tune
Praising Him who never could
Protect her innocence Alas
There is no path within this wood
Where they may safely make their way
Who've been so good
No child is safe, blood will be spilled
And beasts run wild
And bite our hands
And all that's innocent will be defiled
And all that's innocent defiled.

--Tom Disch