Acupuncture By Charlotte Reed - Get a Free Blog

Th ey stood sentinel
on the hills
watching us and yearning
yearning for death,
for fl esh
But now, my priestess,
my champagne-pourer,
my blushing serpent,
your scales have hardened.
even statues weep wax for you,
you unfeeling, you stony—
from your cold skin tears rebound
they fl ow acidic, staining
our once pure ablution
Oh champagne! Oh kisses!—
my double Eucharist:
you smolder in those icy waters,
you burn up and freeze in
deathly prison
And gypsy light-prisms shatter
under the thick weight
of medieval blood
magus ~ 34 ~ mabus