Untitled.

Mounting the out,
skirts convening demons
with an arch moon of bright thigh.

Death sighed bloodlessly
through her.
Shook like a dandelion, she bit down –

a mandala of lunacy and limbs.
Death idly spun the wheel.
“It’s a grim night for a reaper”, he moans

“Another haunted Antigone”

delaying fate for the enchanting torture
of one more dance alone
beneath a dog-black sky.

4 thoughts on “Untitled.

  1. It’s great to see you posting here again, Sommer. How very dark is a ‘dog-black sky’, in which only Anubis can lead the soul. Each verse like a medieval panel; i read them back and forth and back again.

Leave a Reply