Sibilant and macabre
Walpurgis sauntered in
Skies litten with five-pointed stars
The work of crafts surpassing sin
As
She graced Her window ledge
- An orphaned gypsy nymph
This issue of the forest's bed
Skin flushed with sipped absinthe -
Her
eyes revealed, as Brocken's peak
Tried once concealing Hell
A snow white line of divine freaks
In riot, where they
fell...
The circus lurches in, a ring of promised delight
For seven days and seven festival nights
What wicked wonders lie
within the confines
Of the panther's den
She watches from a maypole, on the rip of Her tongue
The restless spirit of
Christmas to come
A Gretel sick of merely sucking Her thumb
Than gingerbread men
Spawned scorned, abhorred by the
aerial
She was the light of the world going down
War-torn, forlorn and malarial
She was found
Born in a burial
gown
Unloosed, the chain of Her god-given cross
Seduced, now pagan ribbons swathe Her repose
In a carnival of souls sold and
similarly lost
Too many decades misfit and mislaid
In innocence, a tender legend of prey
Parades Her second coming, now
they're running afraid
Spawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial
She was the light of the world going down
War-torn, forlorn
and malarial
She was found
Born in a burial gown
Now She moves with a predator's guile
Beyond the fire-lit circle of
life
She soothes your cold heart for a while
Then matches its beat, synching in with a knife
She wrestles Her dreams with a
delicate case
Espied by Her cross on the wall
And should She awake, through embrace or mistake
She would take Jesus
Bless foot
forward and all...
Sibilant and at last
The circus crawled away
With another lover in its arms
Dancing on Her
grave...
