Fortune Untold

A glowing candle in the dark,

an old man sits alone.

Across the dusty table,

there sits an older crone.

 

“I’ll tell ye of yer fate,” says she,

her eyes aglow and wide.

“I’d like to know if good or bad.”

He sat his chair astride.

 

She closed her eyes and muttered

at a fast and fevered pitch.

He didn’t see

the demon woman form

behind the witch.

 

She smiled with a dripping grin,

and stared with hungry eyes

so longingly, she’d come to cause

his dimming soul’s demise.

 

She pinned his body to the chair

and feasted on his heart.

“Your fate is bad,” the old witch said.

“And that completes your chart.”

 

She laughed as she got up to leave.

“Enjoy your meal, my dear.”

“Well, why stop now?” the demon said.

“The two of you are here.”

The Souls of Her Lovers

I follow this girl in the hopes of

something uncertain,

even as

the sea wind tugs at me like

a small child with entreating, urgent

hands.

 

There are threats within the deep

to snatch me from the air,

and so I must be wary.

 

These orbs,

bright and small and pink,

have voyaged here from

watery graves

to surround her with

the fervid attention

she drew from them

in life.

 

When she tires

of their

flickering affection,

she will feed them to me.

 

Then I will feast,

and dream

of being a man

worthy of

her love.

 

For now,

we dance

together

on the storm-churned

surf,

as the

souls of her lovers

circle us

to the music

of the wind.

 

Unkindness

All we have done

is that which

you

have shown us.

 

Here, in this cage,

in view of the sun and sky,

the wind puffs at my wings,

teasing like a

mischievous imp.

 

I cannot sing.

I will not cry.

And I will

not stop

pulling at these

chains.

 

And yet,

when I dream of

flying

with my brothers,

and finding a mate,

and hunting

on the high winds

of a glorious summer

 

Together,

you call us unkind.

All we have done

is that which you’ve

shown us.

Undead Reborn

 

Seeking succor from her dreams,

hear the restless vampire screams.

Dreams of stakes and silver knives.

Hunters harvest undead lives.

Tears of red in eyes of gold,

warm red blood and pale flesh cold,

turn to embers, ashes, dust.

Desperate hands through packed earth thrust.

Too late now, the gurgling sighs

sing the dirge as evil dies.

Now the victory light of sun

shines upon the chosen one.

But somewhere across the sea,

fledgling fanged ones now roam free…

Distant Fires

I’ve waited, but not so very long.

The human life is lace before the cosmos.

You thought to elude me?

You locked the door?

I was amused to let you think you actually

accomplished something,

pleased to let you think

you got away.

You merely stoked my anger.

I simply lengthened

my patience,

even as I stoked the fire of

my wrath.

They speak of the foundations of the soul.

I will turn yours to rubble,

shatter you until

pebbles of bone fleck the marrow.

Your destruction will edify me.

And the fire you see in the distant sky

is yours,

and yours

alone.

Welcome home,

damnation’s

bastard

child.