Countess of Black Roses

The vagueCountess of Black Roses

yet clear bare beauty

of her bone face and cadaverous appearance.

Her eyes as shadow at midnight.

The horrid beauty of her pale skeletal hands.

And in her nails sparks of the dark universe.

Her black silken hair

woven by the maggots.

Her head

crowned with the jewel

of the night.

*

The remainder of her decaying skin

is icy as snow.

Soft and delicate as milk.

The colour as wan as ashes.

Her garment tough and leathery

as wings of the bat

cloaks her body.

*

Neither the serpent nor the raven

has her beauty.

Yet she acclaims their sadistic cruelty.

Their greed for shining eyes

and the taste of sweet

delicate maidens ankles.

*

She rests upon the graves of men

and pauses within the vaults.

Weaving masterfully her mischaped garments

and throwing them to the spiders.

Tending beds of Deadly Nightshade.

Stroking both wolf and demon.

*

Caressing man

as she passes.

Agonizing and crippling them.

Then she kisses

with red smeared lips.

Crushing their breath

and creasing their hearts.

As only a perfect

Black Rose would.