" MacBeth and Me

Down below the twisted step,
The tavern awaits night's Dark guests.
Fires aglow hiss the emb'rous red,
And Hell waits upon her most prized dead.

A charmed man of thirty or so,
Ambition's son who vaults so low.
Tarries he now at table's dread, and drinks
The draught of one Soul condemned.

Lingers he so, o'er beef and wassail,
Choicest portions of desires assailed.
Presses he down lusts murd'rous and hard,
A driving rain of the blackest of hearts.

'Prince of Cumberland,' he had to traverse,
Or fall asunder, star-crossed to his curse.
Sees shadows now and smiles slight at me,
Knows he a kindred, in like debauchery.

Eyes my spirit through cracked mirror.
Banquo saw too and was butchered in Fear.
The Lady also, unsexed, it seemed
(Tended she cravings 'cided that King).

Aye, locked below under tomorrow's step,
He lies awaiting in damned inquest.
Mortals what I am and to what I agree,
Bids me to his table, Macbeth and me.

--Poems on the Run, vol. I "

― Douglas Laurent