The Butcher Boy
By shomi
For a price he killsdripping blood, he sings‘The rain pitters a dittyin my home, the hills.’Sometimes at nightstrange music comes to himover the tic tic tocthe cricket the cicada and the frogover the whining of mosquitoesand the patter of rain on asbestosand the rain strums alonghalf forgotten snatchesof a half forgotten songtracing streams to where seaweeds flow pearly with eyes of ruby and sapphireafire in the glowof a pearl that was a river. Written November 2nd, 2001 © on Nov 01 2001 10:26 PM PST 20 • 0 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"For a price he killsdripping blood, he sings‘The rain pitters a dittyin my home, the hills.’Sometimes at nightstrange music comes to himover the tic tic tocthe cricket the cicada and the frogover the whining of mosquitoesand the patter of rain on asbestosand the rain strums alonghalf forgotten snatchesof a half forgotten songtracing streams to where seaweeds flow pearly with eyes of ruby and sapphireafire in the glowof a pearl that was a river...."