At the silent hills by Emmett’s Point
Sits a silent house far from the streets
And inside it lives a mother to eight
Who laid all her children on a winter night
Abdominous and bloated as she birthed them all
In porous skin they made their home
But suckled not on mother’s breast
With each missing person they grew and grew
And in time so did their local legend
Black furred spots moving amidst the winter snow
Monstrous shrieks of a voiceless child
Exsanguinated persons in gutters galore
As the queen sits fused in her necrotic den
…By Emmett’s Point, gallows hang not with rope or chain
But webbed in gossamer as the queen\'s domain…
16th March, 2024