Cesare

I sleep for days in my wooden box,

Only to greet you upon my awakening

By predicting your doomed and grisly future

 

Skeleton,

Skin and bones,

Some days you’d have to force me

To masticate mere morsels

Of rock-solid bread and bubbling, tasteless broth

 

I am an uncurled spiral

Against life’s jagged, cut-out shapes

And only my piercing eyes suggest

That a heart continues to beat

Inside that bolted, rickety cage

 

Down curving, crooked streets,

Through twisted, misshapen shadows,

New life whispers its way inside

As I alternate between the footsteps

Of a silent, slinking, svelte black cat

And a jerky, dislocated, scuttling spider

 

Mine is the face at the midnight window

Away from which others run screaming,

But you welcome with starving arms

 

Some nights gothic sleepwalk,

Others erotic sleepstalk

I may be centuries old,

But I’m still an expert at kidnapping hearts

From the muted, monochrome, discomfort zone

 

By Rae Louise Jones

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