The Devil Slakes his Thirst by Lyndsay Oliver

I am not a silent poet

The devil dons his mask

and casts our children from the land

with promises purloined

fromthe nightmares of the dead

The devil sheds his skin

walks the dark sequestered streets

as we worship and adore

his glory all unbound

The devil stakes his claim

to pitch his shadow on the sea

while we collect his rent

from the safety of the shore

The devil takes his due

with an unforgiving hand

more practised than restrained

and lays his burden down


Lindsay Oliver lives in Leith and writes poems, short stories, and longer fiction. Her website address is

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