The watchful eye of the bleeding heart moon
her vellum glowed in its gaze—
a canvas for creatures of prey.
Black sand morphed white on her toes,
to said creatures
making them voraciously bay.
Storm clouds rained dirt
for moments turned years
while she learned to make bloodcastles
with hellbowls of tears.
Sorry for what they’d done,
treacherous birds of root
flew from her tormented refrain
to nest and to watch from beaches of soot.
A pièce de résistance complete
in its unfinishing,
thus, she set off to hunt prey of her own.
She tortured a few, but could kill only time,
true more to herself than a rule.
She’d only been waiting on setting cement,
and Prince Charming’s repent
for having left her alone in the light of such an encouraging moon.
Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner
Linking up to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for Open Link Monday and OpenLinkNight at dVerse Poets Pub.