the enchanter

with unseen bloody fingers she sings a melody but with

purely visual aesthetic and woos even the strictest stoic

& with subtle soft petal bells hanging,

now 2 years old, standing nearly 8 feet tall

you may very well want to reach out and touch,

stroke her texture

drawing your index up the back of her slender stem,

engulfed in the passion of the moment

you may even draw a bell and bite down with eyes closed,

tilting your head back in anticipation of

euphoria,

only to be disappointed (as we are so very often in our short existence),

as instead of a hallucination of poignant pleasure-filled

paradiso,

the digitalis begins the dizziness, the irregular heartbeat & the

all out

bad trip that will take its toll on you

sooner than later,

bring you down low to the level of the

forgotten

as the witch strangles your gasping throat with her gloves &

the

dead man’s bells clang---

another one bites the grounded gilings, grime & granular

grit,

all spinning around

your eyes flickering in a haze

to the broken rhythm of those final heartbeats as the

sun goes down.