In It

In it went forever
in it went a cupboard
in it fell a tin cup
in it fell a whole man
in it stepped a mongrel
in it stepped a fox
in it rested something brassy
in it rested tubs of gin
in it, in it lay a glob of ham
in it strayed a lathed bedpost
in it prayed an elusive God
in it flayed a whittling boy scout
in it played a wounded knee’s thoughts
in it frayed a flag of dull nights
in it stayed all the philosophers.

Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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