The Jabberwock

He took my air
My stare
My seething
My every square
I dare
He’s heaving
She’s made aware
There’s no care
He’s leaving,
When my lungs give out
I swear
They’re seeking

I love my air
It’s life
I bear
From here to there
I fare,
Whilst wheezing

I know it’s fair
But there’s longing for flair
The dark I err
No comfort, in debonair
It’s an affair I’m aware
But still,

It entered my mind. In brumaire
Train under derriere
I watched like from the parterre
A scene of despair
That stung the air
And reckoned my impair
But it wasn’t he who took my air,
It was death.
Down. The darkened stair