Treasure (Part 1)
Some truth lies buried, lost
and found
crust plunged several
inches and some feet,
with sufficient sham
mapped trap streets
and false scents to throw your
hounds.
His heart in pact is a risk clenched fist
that wants it all and pinches
flesh and twists
and its pleasure is only
to give him pleasure
in opening chests of hush-hush
treasure,
masked, they say, with gay
abandon,
dissimulation of plain
sight, smoky clarity,
through two way mirrors, placed
at random
to obscure detection with slight
dexterity.
And he left it there without
much remorse,
where, if any had sense,
could easily source
secrets, but for now it
bides safe and sound,
deep in soft sweet casket,
small and round.
On Fridays, the faithful
go to the mosque
while he opens the strongbox
and is lost
once more, slipping the
yielding clasps
between sweaty finger and
thumb, grasps
that which runs golden like
melting butter
unchaining, palming links
into spiralling pools,
see his beating avaricious
heart’s all aflutter
whilst forbidden lustres
these darkest jewels.
Oh, but never think he
sleeps easy at nights,
knowing all to be lost and
he cannot take flight
within dreams fighting
dreams, to uncover
a day this plundered
treasure is discovered.
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