The Enchanter
with unseen bloody fingers she sings a melody but with
purely visual aesthetic and woos even the strictest stoic
& with subtle soft petal bells hanging,
now 2 years old, standing nearly 8 feet tall
you may very well want to reach out and touch,
stroke her texture
drawing your index up the back of her slender stem,
engulfed in the passion of the moment
you may even draw a bell and bite down with eyes closed,
tilting your head back in anticipation of
euphoria,
only to be disappointed (as we are so very often in our short existence),
as instead of a hallucination of poignant pleasure-filled
paradiso,
the digitalis begins the dizziness, the irregular heartbeat & the
all out
bad trip that will take its toll on you
sooner than later,
bring you down low to the level of the
forgotten
as the witch strangles your gasping throat with her gloves &
the
dead man’s bells clang---
another one bites the grounded gilings, grime & granular
grit,
all spinning around
your eyes flickering in a haze
to the broken rhythm of those final heartbeats as the
sun goes down.
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