Bête Noire

Can you see, bête noire,
what castellated cardboard
walls you raise?

Can you hear the bellow
from regurgitating depths?
A par excellence charade
hauling spikes and venom,
another exigency in disarray,
twisted to your petty pleasures.

Can you smell, bête noire,
the reek of soot and decay
from every word you speak?

Can you feel
reason spread thin
over your emptied domain,
all yours to keep
but silent forever?

Bête noire,
taste these lines,
roll them gingerly down your
throat, and you’ll either choke
or live to tell the tale.

And have someone
who’ll listen.