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Jellyfish
V--- sips her tea, which the lunatic
has spiked with a sedative potion.
She lounges on white wicker pillows
and sinks into a pool of confusion.
She hears her mind a-frantic chant,
"I don't feel that good... I'm dying."
The Madman paces back and forth
and flails his limbs like a jellyfish.
His spree of soliloquy echoes thus:
"This marvelous frequency found!
Shortly she will be on the ground."
The roses panic, stirred by a wind.
I like the way certain lines,
I like the way certain lines, and only certain lines, feature rhyme or slant-rhyme. To me, it adds an eerily gleeful tone to the poem's implicit horrific atmosphere. It reminds me of line 202 of T. S. Eliot's poem, The Waste Land, his quotation from Verlaine's poetry. I think those two Symbolist Poets would recognize, in you, a kindred Symbolist Poet.
Starward