Atameros
The palace with revolving doors was mine
And three of us went up its steps
To the tall room whose walls were made
Of the furred eyes of moths.
One only went within -
Atameros the Greek;
With steps that slid along the floor
He slipped inside and closed the door.
Whilst Williamson took off his boots,
Produced three large synthetic mandrake roots
And softly musicked Home Sweet Home
Upon his dirty pocket-comb.
Within the room a metal thread
Uncoiled to greet Atameros;
- Read more about Atameros
- Log in or register to post comments