Grim, This Mistress
- by tagorton
for her, roses dawdle,
pondering scents to dazzle while
dew spreads thin over blades
green as sickly bonfires.
that is how they did things,
lined up the bodies
in a row along the hillside,
setting fire to their toes;
one, two, three,
and now the sheets at night
never quite cover the bottoms of my feet.
in those days
they stacked death in cellar's belly
beside sacks of grain and sugar
rotting contradiction, oh how sweet
to die and be fed to darks' desire
for her, silken divinity wrapped
in clever rags,
the daylight blinks and shudders,
only to lend a warm retreat
and its funny, looking back,
that men in white coats and masks
never saw her, hovering pale,
or even a thread of illumination.
funny that they believed in the powers of medicine.
and I'm left lying here, pondering
her mystery
desperately pushing my bedsheets down and down and down
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