Oubliette

I put him in there years ago,

blocked off the windows,

secured the roof.

I couldn’t usually hear his pacing

though I knew that’s what he did -

one day I knew he'd stopped,

settled in a corner.

He makes things down there -

I don't know what -

willing something out of nothing

in the dark.

I don’t know if he marks the days.

I'm careful to bring food and water.

I may be cruel, but I’m not a monster.

There’s a way these things are done.

I don’t go far from here myself.

It feels right somehow,

like keeping a contract,

peaceful:

there’s worse things you could do

with your life.

Writing by ADRIAN SALMON

Artwork by MARILYN JANE