Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Poison Moon

A loss has taken place.
A bag of green.
A soft doorknob,
guilty as judge and jury.
Soon the light bulb will not shine
and what the fates have dealt will be so.
My little calf.
My poison moon.
The symphony holds the sun in its hands.
And when the bed proclaims tomorrow
I will drink from your cup.
I will find my way down
to your bed
and lay myself upon your pillow.
I will eat up the soft part of your neck and
pulse the blue from your sheets.
I will make myself a holy war for you to feast upon.
A chocolate heart
beating dark.
A pool of sweet
so tender
you will have no choice
but to drink.