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
For the hearts that break
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.