The End of Innocence
A found poem - Chapter 9 of The Lord of the Flies
A build-up of clouds,
The air was ready to explode,
The sun had gone.
The Lord of the Flies,
A heap of glistening coal,
Hung on his stick.
Simon walked drearily between the trunks.
He lifted the ropes of creeper aside
And mouthed words that didn't reach the air.
A buffet of wind made him stagger.
His legs were weak;
His tongue gave him pain.
A humped thing suddenly sat up,
Looked down at him.
He hid his face.
Then, as the blue material of the parachute collapsed,
The corpulent figure bowed forward.
Simon understood.
The beast was harmless and horrible.
The news must reach the others.
All he could do was stagger.
All at once, the thunder struck.
Then, a blink of bright light.
Big drops of rain fell.
"Do our dance! Come on! Dance!"
Roger became the pig,
And the hunters took their spears.
"Kill the beast!
Cut his throat!
Spill his blood!"
The chant began to beat,
A steady pulse.
The circles went round and round.
A thing was crawling,
Darkly, uncertainly,
Out of the forest.
The beast stumbled into the circle,
Struggled against the abominable noise,
Crying out something about a dead man on a hill.
The crowd leapt onto the beast,
Screamed, struck, bit, tore.
The clouds opened up and let down the rain.
The beast,
Simon,
Lay still.
Towards midnight, the rain ceased;
The clouds drifted away.
Simon's dead body moved out towards the open sea.