Value beauty beyond danger. The three
flames made flesh, unmerciful fire. Nocturne
on a sweaty night. Dream of queen’s jelly,
your first cradle-song. It’s true that iron
and your touch will render me dead useless.
Ropes and ceiling wax, ripples on nipples,
fields of broken bones. What a horrid mess,
those three words: “time of death.” I have the skull’s
vacant stare. The voodoo doll’s turquoise breasts.
I dreamed you alive and you were scrumptious.
I’ve tasted the tender meat of your hocks,
run you ragged, then made you bleat. Incest’s
shadow. Call me Death’s Dowager; graveless,
dancing, a stranger in ash and dreadlocks.