The Dead Dance
Nubian caress, your joy repressed
Sargon kingdoms where thorns sing
Restless winds that steal dreams
Nothing vulnerable in the purple night
Candle burns like a séance
Her ghostly gown of blue moonlight
We make love without love
Can darkness warm the coldest heart?
Have you cut yourself to feel?
Do tattoos elate Aphrodite’s appetite?
She dresses like an elegant funeral parlor
Silhouettes shrouded on a lifeless stage
They move like a starless morgue
The dead dance slowly like frozen stones
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Added by Poetry Lover
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