by Josephine Bonaparte
This last embrace in darkness
A false night
Before a homicidal dawn.
My arms around your neck
Fingers grasping rapaciously at your hair
Your noose leeching from my throat
Futile shadows of despair.
A sepia filter shrouding this montage
In defiant serenity;
A meagre shield
Against swords of light
Poised
To burn through the bodies
Of those carrying the blight.
A door begins to lift
A subtle groan of nascent sunshine
And, impaled
My limbs slacken
Forcing me to my knees
Which meld to the ground.