It was the silverfish
in the end
that finished
the highwayman’s treasure
a malfeased piece
of Victoria’s wedding cake
a sliver of majesty
kept wrapped
in muslin purloin
scissored from a pillow’s hood
transported to Hobart by ‘49
absconding the famine of Dublin nights
and four months
at captive sea
handed down with the story
a simmering rebellion
taken out of the mouths
of noble gantries
along with seven shillings
and a pound of meat
secrets passed its way
until compounded and forgotten
to finally feed the worthy
in a Richmond pantry.
James Walton Poetry 