Death's Darkbeat Door
as many times I close my immortal chime-street eyelids
I hear the grim echo of the tap shoe reaper shuffling her uncertain deck
in the god forsaken rusty night corridor
of death’s darkbeat door
a waltz, a swing a whirling dervish belly hop bop
pick it..she’ ll be a willing partner when it’s time
Copyright © Michael Amitin | Year Posted 2014
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