Your mind sways heavy like the night wind. Death on the doorstep and a thousand voices running chills up your spine. In the time it takes to find your keys, the earth has opened up and swallowed our trashed civilization whole.
We dream of getting out somehow but it seems this is our fate. Trapped like animals easily fooled. Easily lured by fresh kill and feathers. No matter disease. No matter the rotted decay of the leaves.
As the full moon rises and locks into place for the night, you think about the wide eye of eternity stretching out overhead like a black satin curtain. You pull your cloak tight around your chest.
Meet him in between the cemetery and the crumbling church. He tells you to keep quiet and stay still. To listen for the howl of wind through the empty trees, cold as a whisper, breathing on ice.
In your ears, the chanting, the moans of time as time bends into space and evaporates.
He gives you red wine and you drink it down slow.
Bright eyes which shine like silver, face as pale as pristine snow.
He places his finger in your cherry stained mouth and you suck it like your life was worth more than you could ever express for him in words. Spread legs and slick thighs. Poetry as hungry adoration. Poetry as limb from limb. Poetry as gilded age.
There used to be a time for talking but that’s long over now.
He makes a sacrifice of your body, burns a candle and sends you home with the blood. The time for words has ended.
You lower the blinds, turn the page, close the book of ancient lore and place it on a shelf high above the rest.
Slide your hand along the golden edges of the days gone by.
Life as the ghost of the woman you once were and will never be again. Life and the end of life, suspended like clouds in your midst.