The Underlake

Painters go missing all the time now
one after another
slipping away like rats in a warren

Landladies ask their tenants,
with crooked fingers
on china cups,
why no-one comes back

some say they slip
that the water's full of bodies
like lily pads.
their sallow eyes
empty and content
watching the glow worms

others that it's made up
there isn't such a place
only hopeless tunnels
full of dead men and women
who passed hungry and afraid

but a girl asked a caver
and she said they're all still down there
every single one of them
still painting
in rows and rows

• I suck at formatting, so I'm hoping this comes out alright. Here's the recent feedback given;

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/437mo9/rug_metaphor/czgne06?context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4391jr/a_glimmering_drop/czgn0ds?context=3