That day the Blue-Jay sang in alarm,
mistaken by the sweet peas of spring, I was charmed.
I looked lovingly at my shadow, as night grew near.
Though it was dark, I did not fear, at first.
I sang my inner child to sleep.
I smiled faintly and kissed her on the forehead.
Unknowingly, I tucked her into her deathbed.
As I tip-toed from the room, throughout the chilly air,
was the smell of her sweet, honeysuckle hair.
I turned out her light and waited for a new day.
Bell….Bell…your whispers scare me.
The serpent of caduceus sits on Mephistopheles knees,
living seasons upon treasons inside of me.
Oh Bell knows secrets of this I am sure, but he answers me not when I implore,
where, why, when?
Hissing, he just spits out a tear in my face.
I am drained of energy, life and love, while Aunt Mary says talk to the One up above, but that venom is bitter, hot, most vile, sleeping dogs do better if they are just left to lie, serpents can’t walk and I am stubborn.
Somewhere in the tangles of my mind, is a smiling child I cannot find.
I remember, in Christmas she still believes, and old Bell in his chest, rattles and heaves,
“She’sssss gonna be somebody, sssssome day.”
I pick up my axe as I start to pray over a tiny etched glass with initials, “TK…
…W” and drink the poison that heals…