Sibilant and macabre

Walpurgis sauntered in

Skies litten with five-pointed stars

The work of crafts surpassing sin

As She graced Her window ledge

- An orphaned gypsy nymph

This issue of the forest's bed

Skin flushed with sipped absinthe -

Her eyes revealed, as Brocken's peak

Tried once concealing Hell

A snow white line of divine freaks

In riot, where they fell...



The circus lurches in, a ring of promised delight

For seven days and seven festival nights

Of the panther's den



She watches from a maypole, on the rip of Her tongue

A Gretel sick of merely sucking Her thumb

Than gingerbread men



Spawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial

She was the light of the world going down

War-torn, forlorn and malarial

She was found

Born in a burial gown



Unloosed, the chain of Her god-given cross

Seduced, now pagan ribbons swathe Her repose

In a carnival of souls sold and similarly lost



Too many decades misfit and mislaid

In innocence, a tender legend of prey



Spawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial

She was the light of the world going down

War-torn, forlorn and malarial

She was found

Born in a burial gown



Now She moves with a predator's guile

Beyond the firelit circle of life

She soothes your cold heart for a while

Then matches its beat, synching in with a knife

She wrestles Her dreams with a delicate case

Espied by Her cross on the wall

And should She awake, through embrace or mistake

She would take Jesus

Bless foot forward and all...



Sibiliant and at last

The circus crawled away

With another lover in its arms

Dancing on Her grave...