Joanna’s Box

The world is at war

This is the final war

There will be no peace

As most of the good men are dead

I am hiding in the woods

And am watching as the enemy soldiers

Hunt for survivors

Occasionally a rifle shot breaks the silence

In my possession I have Joanna’s wooden box

It is a box of wonders

As yet unopened

I look up

A soldier with a rifle is standing over me

He shouts a command in a secret language

More soldiers appear

They are about to kill me

I open the box for the first time

And a red dragon appears

And kills the soldiers

One by One

I leave the woods

For the first time in twelve years

Corpses rot in the frozen fields

They have been ripped to pieces

Bleached bones litter the winter grasses

And she brought forth a man child

Who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron

From his throne of blood

I beckoned a woman much raped towards the woods

A place has been prepared for her by God

There she would be fed and clothed

And would stay with the wooden box

For one thousand two hundred a threescore days

Then upon my return she would reveal herself to me

Clothed by the sun with the moon at her feet

I would place a crown of twelve stars upon her head

And we would engage in physical love

For fourteen years and fourteen days

Producing many children

Who would rule the warring nations

After my death

As I had once done

Joanna once again has her box

And sits each day under the tallest tree

Caressing its shallow relief

She knows what it holds

And has secreted its key within her person