I was the ultimate lonely hydrogen atom
Clinging to whichever deluded body was open.
A thin stripped beam of silver wire streaming
Through two boxes, forever apart,
Fired sparkless charges.
Alchemical misfit turning gold to zinc to dross, air-spasm,
I puffed my opus pipe, lines
Precious, ash-strewn, palled.
I was always in Amontillado's tomb,
Each of the six-thousand-plus bricks
My perfect seal.