Thursday 12 January 2012

Flappers

she
they called WYTCH
now muscles twitch
as her neck
stretches
on a bloody gibbet

together
they form
a holy chorus line
dancing from that loose limbed
hallowed gallows tree
all
in the dawns delight

he
NECROMANCER
dead converser
when pressed
had no impression
uttered no confession
his last review “more weight”

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