The text is formal, carefully inscribed,
Worthy words, no doubt, if I could read them.
Some monk has cramped his hand and strained his eyes
For this, by rancid candle’s light.
So I can’t blame him
If, tired of black-inked Latin,
He filled the edges of his page
With bottom-baring priests, and phallus trees,
And livened learning
With mutant creatures out of drunken dream.
Notes: The prompt was to write an ekphrastic poem inspired by the marginalia of medieval manuscripts. I spent so much time looking at the weird pictures that this is all I wrote!