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50 Words For Poe: Camera Obscura

"50 Words for Poe: camera obscura" The Night Flower turns in her bed in a dark room stories of wraiths like flies buzzing in her head and blood-sucking bugs that bite Rippers and lovers dead come to collect her from her ornery black-balled plight The box is closed it would seem, tight. She returns to her Chronovisor, a mind, tincture of absinthe blind she dreams to sleep awake through time . . . Blue was she very blue the result of Amorous Congress with Mr New Rosebud was wearing a hue of crushed Camisole Pink crinoline while off to Bedfordshire in the gloaming Mr New tipped her blushing pink all fresh & velvet green Somewhere between 1 & 2 She found herself in the Lake between the whorey frost of Heaven & Hell all blue all blue our blue faerie not Green, Fey Blue This happens when the beast with two backs doesn't dance well and The Wolf is let loose out of his cage in the zoo Blue was she very blue a shade of New's best of best blue though like a watercolour that bleeds off the canvas pale ghost white opalescence becomes her, he considers, as red fox hidden watches on the fox is silent it is out of view Her mind drifts off like she’s with The Other dancing in a dream not blue there’s that certain something in his voice that numbs her in his eyes that come, undone her, she blinks once for now he is seen cold He is New Eyes open wide fixated just so frozen in that moment impossible to close staring through crystal the cold ice is pure not stained a flurry of pretty snowflakes wasted confetti all above her it begins to rain Mr New smiles at her like he has a mouthful of Sugar and considers she resembles a drifting white swan feather gracefully 'off' blue green reeds tangled in her hair all about her they sway she bleeds he stares Mr New's smile is disarming and delayed calmly he turns his back on her and walks away Somewhere on the Other Side It is a brand New day... (LadyLabyrinth/2019) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjX8xfZ7sg0 Elysian Fields/Lady in the Lake camera obscura/ latin. dark room “Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the fold fin in the prophyry front The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost And like a ghost she glimmers on to me"

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