My Monster

Freshly dug by torchlight
From the stale stale ground
Each part of you each night
Stitched and placed and bound.

On my cold cold table
Lies what won’t rest in peace
The pieces that I cradled
Form some new dis-ease.

Bolts and volts and off-key notes
Raise you up to Life
My operating theatre groans
As you sit Bolt upright.

About the Author

Alec (Algo) Gourley is from Ireland. In self-imposed isolation, Algo only wears black and enjoys studying the school of Austrian Economics, reading comic books, and meditating.