the castle moat

 

in the floating wrack

in the acres of plumbing waste filling the brimful obstacle

I guarantee you

no knight shall pass

ungarnered of his stain

there is an Aleppo a literary one

and there a Venetian general might draw his dirk

but among this stench pile we can only imagine the lord of the place on his throne

like Pasolini’s Satan shitting the clergy