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by Nevada Kerr

I shudder at the specter lying by my head
Resting on my shoulder in my winter bed
In the day I pray that you stay out of reach
If only I could stifle that wailing banshee screech

My flesh can not bear your unseen advances
Your phantasmal strokes and sepulchral caresses
A ravishment too ghastly to quaver in delight
Your gallant tongue accosts me in the sleepless night

The reconciled lover who makes his final bow
I stagger through the pall of the coffin crowd
You pick the choice pieces to simmer and stew
Wielding the scythe of a Scythian shrew

The eviscerated souvenir, bodyless and small
Stuffed and mounted, I hang on your wall
A gilded broach goes all the way through
Digging in, you pin your desperate hopes anew

Written by © Nevada Kerr
April 26, 2004.

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Created: April 2004 © Paul Kinder Last Updated: 19/5/04