Jeff McCaskill • Writer, Musician, Friend
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Grim Truth

© 2012 Jeffrey E. McCaskill. All Rights Reserved.

The only truth he knows
He courts between two fingers 

A romance, swift and silent
Before a blue-nailed strike 
Erupts across the night
And sends her forth.


Deeply, religiously
He draws her in
Past the vanity of wind-swept teeth 

Down the meaty maw
Where dreams and lies collude.


In his struggle to contain her
He endures
Until bulging, blue-faced
She is loosed upon the moonlight 

In a silky, coiled ascent.

And somewhere below
A flimsy, vapid grin betrays his ignorance 

That she has stolen more, ever more 
Than she arrived with
Leaving nothing in her wake
Save the lingering, sweet perfume
Of wanton death.


 


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