Cliff Johnson - Night Keys

Tick, tick, click, tick
Her dark blood slashes a 't',
Ugly black disciples in her wake,
Her sacrifice stamped and sent.
She, submissive to the words
Of the creator.

And as he stabs away,
Wildely,
His touch assures with each strike,
That despite her blood loss
And sickly lines of Royalty,
The keys to her release, imminent,
The late night,
Near an end.
For Oscar always lovingly mended
His ever-faithful typewriter.
Tick, click, tick, tick.

Cliff Johnson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-keys/