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death dances
its lulling ritual
in the soft gray undulance
rising from my fingers
I nonetheless savor
warm Mesmer tastes of him
drawn from his embering leaves
around and across
my decadent tongue
pulled down
down and into
the centers of me
where I trap sticky filaments
gluing his powers
all his terrible powers
releasing the rest of him
thinned and diminished
encircling my taciturn face
while I wait
in my centers
wondering
when fortune or fate
will subsume
his ugly dark residue
(originally posted April 2013)