Still and silent in the room,
Where shadows ebb and dance and hide;
Beneath the table, cold and cracked,
The Hutan sat, like stone with eyes.
A faded rug led to the door
Where sounds, frequent, filtered in
And kept the hutan tense in waiting
Patience frayed and wearing thin.
Across the way, beyond the wall
Cards fell fast and rose as soon
But from them, swiftly, Joker fell
And lighted somewhere in the gloom.
Laughing hags whored about
And touched their men with dainty claws,
And men sat back with drinks in hand,
Admiring all their blinding flaws.
The party had no partial ears,
For if they had they would have heard
A rising rasping from the hall;
Tablecloths and china shattered.
Biding time beneath a chair,
Joker waited, cold and thin.
Across the wall, beneath a table,
There was but broken porcelain.
Down the hall, in silent doom,
A shadow, turning, hunched and hissed.
The woman came in from the parlor
And for a while would not be missed.
Within that parlor door, they laughed
And groped and drew up far flung fables,
Unaware that she was missing,
Or of the thing beneath the table.
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