Goblin Market Part XI

By CBramkamp creative writing, Poetry Comments Off on Goblin Market Part XI

Wasted hills, as if the apocalypse had arrived

ahead of time – swept through

stranding the survivors: rocks, dried creeks,

chunks of asphalt road

haphazardly fitted together

like a jigsaw puzzle no one cared to finish

because the final picture wasn’t very compelling

No, he squinted against the big savage sky,

the blue washed out to faded denim

I think it always looked like this.

 

The rails blew

scattering Goblins like rubber toys.

Sam pushed the girl behind him

They were too close to the explosions, but not the target

the Goblins muttered and gathered fruit and baskets

and determinedly marched forward.

With a whoop copied from old films

the terror gang roared in throwing

more hard explosions into the crowd,

the girl and Sam hid among the dust and chaos

down, down, Sam hissed, reached for her hat.

 

The Drummer recognized her hat and distracted

With blown out parts of cucumbers and zucchini

Look here!  The Drummer patted down the dead:

gold shavings, lumps of coal

he hefted a hand size lump – wasn’t there a story about this too?

 

Hey, a brother cut off a goblin head and pulled off a necklace.

did you hear the one about the people on the boat?

What about the boat?

They sailed for three hours then ship wreaked and never got off

The point? The Drummer asked.  He knew Legends always had a point.

Don’t get on a boat.  He laughed and twirled the necklace

Un-cut stones glittered in the setting sun.

Who would buy?

The Drummer shrugged and absently cut off a hand

 

Bring out your dead

Bring out your dead

But there were no grocery carts for the Goblins.

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