The Doctor’s Study

THE DOCTOR IS DYING,

And where is his daughter?

Upstairs, right turn,

Shut the door

Fall asleep

Stay there

6-hour alarm.

And where are his rings?

Up the hall, right turn

Open top-middle drawer

In rickety desk,

Snatch poorly laquered case

The Doctor is dying,

Hurry up.

Where is his dog?

The bastard is weary,

And leans on the doorframe

That comes before the hall…

Clearing his throat,

In a hardly distinguishable

Growl.

In the foyer,

We are almost a vapor,

But there is a sound

Unlike waking daughters

Or the concerned scurry

Of a lifelong guardian’s

Dulled claws upon hardwood…

There is his partner,

Who creeps there too,

But now stands up from

The floor,

And is upon me like a

Lightning flash.

“The Doctor is dying!”

“And where are his rings?”

I always wanted a study and desk.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s