THE KING IN YELLOW

I've left the Elder Sign at places
Where the people have fish faces,
And signed my name in my own blood
In a book far older than the flood.
T'was down a crypt in a foreign land
Through "caverns measureless to man"
At the stroke of twelve, Walpurgis Night
As doubtful, winged things took flight
And shrill, thin flutes did mock the air
T'was then I saw him standing there;
The Yellow King, 'neath a yellow hood,
(I would have run then if I could've!)
And then he smiled, though I don't know how,
(His features hidden by that cowl!)
I shrieked, I turned and ran and I
Recall no more till I saw the sky
And then I screamed an awful sound,
The stars and moon were spinning 'round
And then I knew that everything 
Is a toy in the hands of the Yellow King!

—Jody Forest

All rights to this poem belong to its author.

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