Dark Humour: Twelfth Battle Stations

Posted by ractrose on 1 Jul 2020 in Art, Poems

Pastel and pencil drawing of 1930s bedroom

 

 

The Folly

Battle Stations

 

 


 

 

Dark Humour

 

But, if I may, the chap…who calls himself Peters

(He notes Llewellyn find in this no subtle Hunnish wit.

Peters in manner terribly Hansel, a-dropping of his breadcrumbs…

Another glance…no. The new man has been guilty of imitating Peters

at his club. He knows very well what is not done. He fears very much

Llewellyn has cottoned on…)

‘Truly. A fairly harmless case

of self-importance. He has left England because he can.

No, sir…I have thought to trace his movements.’

‘Worked at it, have you?’

‘Er…’

‘Let the matter occupy your time?’

 

The police had got in first, mostly keeping crowds off

Foul play, under some object of uniform…

…breadth…and one must well suppose, weight…

Ribs crushed to suffocation…

Falco, a man who signs his work in this way

Krug having acquired an attachment to the linens

part-mummified (‘not going anywhere’—not so funny now, is it?)

Not an exit left unguarded

Upper windows, though

This of course what the Germans who had done it

(By what means? By what means?)

Aimed at. To make clowns of Scotland Yard.

Why the stains and bits of Krug

The ankle and the foot of Krug

Were placed to suggest a corpse could rise

Make judgments of its own, elude the force

Make off, before the mortuary van arrived

At the cost of an arm (below the elbow)

Used to smash the window glass

 

 


Dark Humour

Pencil and pastel drawing of woman and man feeling distressedNewtons

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2020, Stephanie Foster)

 

 

 

 

 

 

%d bloggers like this: