Cidade dos Sonhos (City of Dreams)

 

Strains of the waltz float on moth wings,
the flutter inaudibly whispers my name.

With the grace of gauze and the density of sighs
he is suddenly at my side.
In his ossified embrace
I smell decay on his breath,
and my skin curdles as he purrs.
His vacant sockets hypnotize,
a glint of mirror in their depths.

I teeter on the edge,
spy my rosy cheeks under stunned eyes
staring back, growing dim.
He extends a cadaverous hand.
Fingers like brittle icicles
press against the small of my back.
An unexpected shiver plucks my spinal chord.
And the waltz plays on.

Step to the left, step to the right,
swoon into a dip, and twist in a twirl.
I orbit the specter as he leads the dance,
his lush seduction congeals my blood.
The chink of bone, ground to powder,
bleached in acidic curses
    of unanswered prayers,
        unfulfilled dreams,
        unclaimed memories -
the ballast of my necropolitan host.
His grotesque grin,
the harbinger of eternal denial.

I hate blind dates. 

 

 (c)2008 Lucie Raposo - All rights reserved (republished 2022)