Pandora

Subtly, it invades,

yet still shrieking through your veins.

Ribbons in tensioned knots up into that very box.

It knocks; and knocks again.

Pandering across the mar rowed walk,

pining for ways to open the lock.

It only needs one, just one.

A sound spirals through the drum,

shakes the hairs to make a hum.

That sounds springs panic to the heart.

There it is, open up.

The clasp is wrought, the iron popped,

flying out so that the mind is slopped.

All that wasn’t should be caught.

Too late, it’s not.


Copyright KJ Heier