Hostess by Alyssa Nickerson

Spiderweb-shrouded, your looks             betray
mountains.             Aviary limbs twist to
            mirrors and within minutes             you emerge:
            incantation of arcane            Graces.

             Fading                        ever                        closer,   you
are             as you become:             a ringing of
bells             –              like song to taunt             the ears of shipwrecked
sailors             tied to             masts                        lost in
pasts             unknown.             It won’t be long now,

girl,            it won’t be long
            until the gates of Hades
          break their clasps and let
loose the seas, a pulse cool and sweet as
stone , as            Acheron and Lethe,             libations
stolen along              river bank
            encampments             of the dead.

                        I forget - for you            flutter forth, sparrow;
oblivious and obscene, your fragile     beauty
            spills forth across bar and crafted lamp-
light as if you held man’s archetypes in every
            breath. Your music slides through skin
to cool             bone, your image             buried in
            snow,            seared             into soul,    as yet unknown.

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