Time To Dine
If the time to dine came earlier than expected
mercurial strips of ether would waft across the table
and no roast would appear.
For in the timing of the meal
lies the secret of its nourishment.
A ghostly frisson plays around the room
the stench of ectoplasm
retched from shores of cardiac arrest
seemingly pleased about the profit made from tasks
enslaved upon the populace
and the troll only made it tamer.
So come dine on time
for history can now reveal
the imploded vestry
caught in the vial
harboured by a virgin.