Ebony’s shadowed legs followed like bone ivory music notes.

Umbrellas at dawn

No longer will the vampires mourn when each and everyone’s turn

Becomes an endeavour

Becomes closer to a pawn of the bloodless, pastry Underworld.

Fangs serve no required love

Unless

For the hearts that break

fastly

Under the tombstones engraved with dear forlorn amours.

Vials and trials make for complicated aisles.

Stephen Hawking’s shadow couldn’t blacken the suns holy masquerade without a tentative backhanded smile.

Flatulent legs pass an accordion player drowning out the tears of the past crystal nachts denial.

The fish bone corset of his lover – bygone

Weaved into a weathered, once feathered basket to uphold her now skeletal dignity,

A patched-up virgin awoken

A red sealed cockerel

His scarlet fever only breaks

out at night.

Nothing makes sense.

Not the severed maimed gingerbread men

Nor the black pudding

Nor the books written after the King’s night well spent.

Those paltry pawns of Christmas past climbed up the stairs on a general’s stare.

A goose-step march without all the trimmings

Merely a one-armed procured letter bitten off a one-off affair.

The traitor of Ebony’s moonlight dalliance wasn’t in his devilish dance on his journey

It was in the faces of his pseudo, mutilated, unvaccinated bastard offspring

Of each adultress, he gazed upon with an unassuming leer.