The Ecphorizer

For Those Who Injured Her
Wes Hight

Issue #44 (April 1985)

-Poe, "The Cask of Amontillado"

Now to the Bleeding Hearts Club come along.
She had been whole,
Almost an apparition, almost song,
Almost an Irish air danced liltingly
Tuned palpable to image lyrically
Her heart, her soul.

But Two, for selfishness, had become One–
Fused blunderer–
Melded of rot and rotten, ukase done
From each to each: Steal As You May And Maim
All Witnesses. Now have they earned their blame
Who injured her?

And did they think never to be illumed
Who injured her?
No poet to shape words to show they doomed
Too much of her bright mirth? No poem pled
For Justice to behold them as they fled
From hurting her?

Posed in their danse macabre see them stilled
As blunderer
United of the Two, demon-fulfilled,
Laved in these words. So shrewd they were, a dunce
Affirms them to Forever that they once
Had injured her.

Mystic amontillado shall be quaffed
In scorn of her
Not any sip. Now they are hushed who laughed
Over her pain. Daft poets wall aside
Such crimes in amber: hiding not to hide
Who injured her. 

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