/// The root source of the painting before us
is a tale writ by Gouverneur Morris.
On an isle Polynesian,
people die from a lesion,
like a tiny bite, bloody and porous.
/// This odd island is bare of all trees.
It has grasslands, which fill with unease
all the natives who swear
only fools would go there.
Mr. Graves thought, “I’ll go where I please.”
/// When a roaming biologist comes
to the isle, he and Graves become chums.
Graves had captured a prize
feral “woman,” (mite-size).
To this fantastic sprite he succumbs.
/// Unnamed botanist holds up his glass
to examine the one foot tall lass.
Soon his hand starts to shake;
it has fangs like a snake.
Graves had found her Back There in the Grass.
/// The young woman that Graves had just wed
was attacked and from wounds she had bled.
It was clear that this critter
was the thing which had bit her.
The tale ends with gunshots— is it dead?
/// The root source of the painting before us
is a tale writ by Gouverneur Morris.
On an isle Polynesian,
people die from a lesion,
like a tiny bite, bloody and porous.
/// This odd island is bare of all trees.
It has grasslands, which fill with unease
all the natives who swear
only fools would go there.
Mr. Graves thought, “I’ll go where I please.”
/// When a roaming biologist comes
to the isle, he and Graves become chums.
Graves had captured a prize
feral “woman,” (mite-size).
To this fantastic sprite he succumbs.
/// Unnamed botanist holds up his glass
to examine the one foot tall lass.
Soon his hand starts to shake;
it has fangs like a snake.
Graves had found her Back There in the Grass.
/// The young woman that Graves had just wed
was attacked and from wounds she had bled.
It was clear that this critter
was the thing which had bit her.
The tale ends with gunshots— is it dead?