Stilts

Stilts High on stilts, I gave Chester Molester The slip Sucking on mountains of sea foam Candy I had no idea of his intentions But mom did He was foiled by a vague chill A shiver that found its way To my mother’s spine Crept up and lodged in her awareness She had the sixth sense That all good mothers have And kept me close, under her skin That day We found out later that He was put away For capturing the souls of young girls He folded them neatly, in thirds And kept them in his sock drawer He lives in a cell As cold and empty as his heart