Serpentine Night  

I want nothing of this night
Your scorching Hiroshima eyes
Speak of innocence that has died

Dance in time to the slave drum pulse
Your mind detached from the motions you make

Surrounded by the serpentine coil of this night
It bleeds you until there is nothing left
You fill your veins with enough heroin
To make you feel alive again

Succumb to the violence of the needle
In time to the beat of the drum

I do not ask to be absolved of this night
Instead I ask for a branding of your image in my mind
Until the agony in your eyes subsides

© 2006  Margaret Haugen