A charter from a desert city’s school
refused to mark Amalgam as a town;
he swore it was an ancient, honored rule
that nothing on a stream was written down.
Tag Archives: Amalgam
A robin roosted in the cherry eaves
atop the tower of Amalgam’s Hall,
and made its nest of bones and holly leaves,
securing it with mud against the wall.
A blanket-weaver from the eastern hills
sold forty quilts for three Amalgam jacks:
He did not charge an extra for the frills,
but dropped the price by one to counter tax.
Twelve hours made the old Amalgam day:
first three to warn the people of the Sun,
six more to work under Its fiery sway,
and three to feel the slavery was done.
The pink-white heart of Allien di Cambrose,
preserved by pale Amalgam’s Nectine monks,
displayed on Summer solstice with a rose,
is said to have been made of swine-throat chunks.
A poison seeped into Amalgam’s well
that bit our throats and made our faces swell,
then left us with a fear of what we drink
and cleaning of the well on which to think.
Twice to the town I named Amalgam came
a man who had a face and yet no name.
His conversation stung us like a bee
and yet he left us healthier than he.