![]() The Soul CollectorA Poem by David Lewis PagetHe’d
had recurring headaches Since
the age of fifty-three, But
ten years further on He
said they’d stopped, quite suddenly, He
woke one morning, after dawn Confused,
his wife had said: ‘He
looked quite strangely at me, asked Why
I was in his bed?’ ‘I
said I was his wife, but he Said
no, his wife was Gwen, He’d
left her twenty years before, She’d
gone with other men. I
said, “Look Brad, I’ve known you Thirty
years, that’s just not true!” He
said his name was Pilkington, ‘Ted
Pilkington to you!’ ’ ‘I
took him for an MRI They
said there’s nothing wrong, I
brought him home against his will, He
said: ‘You must be strong! I
lied about the Pilkington, I’m
really Wizard Rolle. I
wander house to house and feed Upon
the weakest soul.’ ‘I
thought it was dementia I
thought that he was mad, I
cried a lot, those first few days I’d
lost my husband, Brad. He
wandered round the garden Looking
lost that afternoon, But
when I woke on Saturday I
found that he had gone.’ ‘I
saw him down the marketplace On
Monday, after lunch, He
manned a stand with celery Tried
selling me a bunch. I
said come home, he wouldn’t budge He
said his name was Tom, Tom
Anderson, the produce man, He
said to move along.’ ‘He
started coming home each night It
really was absurd, He’d
sit and eat his meal with me Without
saying a word, And
then he’d sleep all through the night And
leave before the dawn, He
never went to places twice, He
was the devil’s spawn!’ ‘One
day he was the baker Came
delivering our bread, I
asked just who was he today And
this is what he said: ‘I
told you, I’m the Wizard Rolle Don’t
question me again, I
go out there, collecting souls, But
only souls of men!’ ’ ‘I
only get the quiet ones, The
ones no longer young, They’ve
usually been married To
some hellfire with a tongue, They’ve
taken it so many years They’ve
nothing left to give, There’s
nothing left to fight with I
say, ‘Come with me, and live!’ ‘And
that was when I stabbed him With
my scissors, in the throat, He
gurgled once, and fell so I Just
covered him with my coat, The
next day when the baker called I
said to him, ‘Come in!’ He
thought that he had fooled me But
I knew that that was him!’ ‘The
milkman’s lying in the hall The
neighbour’s in there too, For
all those souls were Wizard Rolle’s I
knew what I must do, I
got Tom in the marketplace Where
everyone could see, I
only want my husband back, Can
you find Brad for me?’ David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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