He said to
Stop and smell
The red roses
On your way
To hell

Dead girls in the leaves
They take my breath away
Dead girls in the trees
I watch them swing and sway

Of them I often inquire
What it feels like to die
I wish to know; I desire
If death is rather shy

Only they would know
If his breath is soft like air
Only they will show
If bones decorate his hair

I wait for them to tell
What it’s like as his prey
They wait for me in hell
In the bones where they lay

Dead girls in the leaves
Whisper warning to my soul
Dead girls in the trees
I watch and ignore them all

Here is death; came as sworn
And sits down at my side
To hear the dead girls mourn
From the place where they died

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

The stage is
                  black ink
The stage is
                   pure empty
          and then
          a graceful
          step


As she flows onto stage
                         Her body moves like the ocean's daughters
As she glides across midnight
                         Her skirts move like a million colors of Iris

Oh! The colors
They cry
to the stars
That now
speckle the stage
That rise
from their grave

Blues
         and purples
                       and greens
Of the night
Will not let you breathe
Reds
         and oranges
                        and yellows
Of the day
Are put away to shame

Her dance cannot be compared to another
   What other dance
                  lights the sky
                so magnificent?
    What other dance
                  enchants eyes of
                thousands afar?

And on the horizon
        Her enemy is now returned
                His dark slumber yawns
                        He reaches his fingers
                                  Out toward her stage
                                 And now on her stage
                        The dance comes to an end
                She gathers her skirts
        She takes her quiet bow
Then takes her exit

Her audience
         cries
              cheers
                     howls
Their thunder is deafening


The stage is
                   black ink
The stage is
                   pure empty
          and then
          a jealous
          red