This is one of my halloween poems, and it’s particularly dark. It’s a sex and murder poem, so you know, it’s perhaps a bit darker than some of my other stuff, but it’s got beauty in it as well, in a fairly horrific way. Especially if you know what the French mean when they describe the Petit Mort…
A skeleton watches from
The closet, as the dust
Where we fell.
Knives thrust in each other’s chests,
In a final
Wrath of ecstatic rage.
We reclined against each other,
Hands entwined in throats
As we fell
Forever, against each
Gasping our last
As the morning sun
Covering all in
Thousand year dust.
Gold and silver.
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