Oh my dear Wormwood, my poppet, my pigsnie
The patient is dead and down here we agree,
You’ve screwed it all up, you’re finished, you’re done.
And punishment for you has barely begun.
You thought it was bad when he saw the great light
And realized that you were what never felt right.
You thought it was worse when he ascended the stairs
Confirming the fact that he was now theirs.
But, oh, do not come calling on me.
Our family bond’s not what it should be.
You’ve wanted me like I’ve wanted you
But you must know I’m the stronger of the two.
Now you’re place is on the dinner plate.
Your ravenously affectionate uncle, Screwtape
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Poetry Thursday: Screwtape V
Rose's summary of The Screwtape Letters in five poems. Today, the fifth and final poem.