October
31st 1702
Twilight
Constantinople, Turkey
My ever heedful Gidiane,
The Wile
Stygians three
hewing burnt leaf and bark,
gobbets with'ring serpentine,
mayweed,
clematis,
inflammatory prose
promptly bid and co-ævall
with theatre,
prating fervid, emotional stance,
lending farce to love binding,
with whom they apprentice,
in hopes of comedia,
malefick and foul.
First breath, the twilight,
a quarry:
fine-spun Erato
and Swain,
both lavish,
pristine:
dew lacker'd flares
on cusp of ascendancy
mingl'd precarious
amongst
such accurst
villains of old.
Alas! Puppeteers,
this thrice pickl'd rancor,
cloak'd silhouettes,
ever swelling;
importune
fitting gestures
of the damnable, vile.
And artless figurines
so enamour'd,
fatuous
simply traipse,
lolling flowers
glamoury,
myrrh—
Though brutes doth attend
barely yon recess,
anxious for lovers
and
other
heartstuffs.
Thus, hag-seed urchins
visage demure,
illusory,
now call upon Ardor
in parch'd Drakon tongue:
cooing, beseeching,
wantonly promiseful,
with naught but their flames
for consummation
and fringe.
And unsullied idols,
dollish, unwitting,
recompense jest apparent
by merest fealty
in the Libretto
of their esteem....
Only to emerge
amid feral tides
of a seething fire;
talons gouging,
fangs gnashing,
mangl'd, searing magicks
furnishing ruin,
stung to the core,
from Death’s sanguine Drakon
maddened by jealousy
moved to assail
within nightfall of lore.
Unassuredly,
Birol
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Seraphime Angelis. All Rights Reserved.
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