DAVEY JONES SECRET LOCKER

 

ROBERT MARGETTS

DAVEY JONES SECRET LOCKER

 

My parents were resting on the sofa,

half‑asleep but still doing that thing

where one eyelid stays cracked open

like a suspicious lizard.

They don’t trust me

and honestly, fair enough.

I have a long,

decorated history of borrowing things

kleptomania they call it.

I prefer a more simple explanation,

A relocation of wealth!

But tonight,

the call of adventure was strong.

It was time to loot the bedroom

the legendary Davy Jones’ Locker

a place rumored to contain gold coins,

ancient relics,

and possibly a cursed sock or two.

To normal people,

it’s just a bedroom.

But to a nine‑year‑old boy

with the blood of a pirate

and the attention span of a caffeinated rat,

it’s a treasure trove of unimaginable loot.

Armed with my trusty weapon

a plastic club hidden away

under some soap and shampoo bottles

 in mommy’s private bathroom.

I marched forward.

In my mind,

it was a mighty cutlass,

forged in dragon fire

occasionally buzzing and pulsating

with mysterious magical energy

grinding and vibrating

like an emaciated snake

with a full chicken

Stuck in his throat.

I crept deeper into the room,

into the forbidden zone,

the place parents go to whisper,

nap,

and hide snacks from their children.

Was I scared?

Absolutely.

But pirates don’t back down

from danger, dust bunnies,

or questionable smells.

I started on Dad’s side of the bed,

lifting the mattress like a seasoned raider.

And behold

Dirty magazines

BINGO.

Treasure!

Tons of booty.

Yup, Daddy had it all.

I also found

Loose change, old receipts,

a pocketknife,

a watch that gave up in 1972,

and a mysterious key

that probably opens a portal

to the land of forgotten chores.

But then

disaster.

The parents stirred.

Time to skedaddle.

I grabbed as much loot

as my pudgy pirate hands

could carry and fled the scene of the crime.

Yes,

I raided Davy Jones’ Locker.

And yes,

I escaped with my booty.

A pirate’s work is never done.

Time to get busy

Investigating all my new magazines.

 

ROBERT MARGETTS

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS POEM:

At its core, this poem is about childhood curiosity colliding with the hidden adult world — and the way a kid mythologizes everything into adventure, danger, and treasure.