“Her nights are full
of the red teeth of death”
Jim Harrison
she mutters prayers most nights
tots up the blessings, misgivings and should haves
summons some less-forbidding angels
for comfort and tasks Azrail to attend as messenger
to The Source, with her sincerest words: “I am not ready yet”
the sounds fly from her mouth
she imagines them in an upsurge of ethereal choirs
as if transcribed by Boito the Librettist
a frame-freezing Faustian epilogue no less
for there is something devilish here too
tags attach, bows on the kite string
snag with dishonesty in the double-talk plea
more earthy even than mortality
His sleeping beside her is deathly, ill at ease
running on restless legs, each twitch
a gathering momentum, shades of moving on
stir him to wakefulness with a stare full of distance
the mist that once forced grey eyes to red, lusty slits
fills his teeth with a rictus smile – and through them
he utters with such matter-of-fact clarity: “Time’s up!”
Notes:
Azrail/Azrael – angel of death
Arrigo Boito’s opera – Mefistopheles opera – see 7:00
Joining Jilly with her prompts inspired by the poetry of Jim Harrision – on this Day 6 of the 28 days of Unreason
PoetryPix 