This city's thirst for
blood is insatiable
I can feel it seeping
from the cracks in the pavement
Flowing from the sewer
grates in clouds of crimson mist
It works its way into
our troubled hearts
And draws us to the
alter
The early evening
light
Bleeds through stained
glass saints
And falls upon
upturned wrists
A knife, handle
fashioned from female bone
Feels right in your
left hand
Southpaw – do your
worst
To keep the devil
happy
In that churchyard
Tombs stretch out for
miles
You’re intimate with
every cadaver
Can trace their
history to the dark ages
When this place was
nothing but a clearing in the forest
A stone circle in the
fire’s orange glare
Our curse was born in
this primeval time
Making sure the
sorrows of life never end
From Reciting Shakespeare with the Dead, published by Hammer & Anvil Books, and available from Amazon.
