The Necklace and the Dagger

Two things will mark their liaison.  
                                                                     
Everyone needs gods, and needs them to die;
we like to watch,                                  
hoping that things will be played out  with violence
touched by just the right amount of grace.
Still, reports should be just vague enough, for us to insert
our own naked hearts, into the pain of their ending.

I imagine we'll all be on the ground floors,
untying and retying the knots of small days,
while they consummate it in the penthouse.
She will have a spike,
and he a cord, adorned with star and moon
(to show his arrogance in owning the heavens),
and their movements will be those of lovers.

It is an inverse, he enfolds, she strikes deep,
while we catch a glimpse of our reflections
in the night window
of a brightly-lit room, and so have our epiphany.
Dead god and goddess, to start the cycle fresh.

Where had she hidden her unexpected edge?
He usually gets his way in these tales.
Rumor will have it that he was surprised,
and gasped, when she put it in.

The lights in the penthouse will stay on,
a private tableau,
and we can see them clothed or not,
wrapped in the end of history.

Two things were promised:
blood and breath,
so we can live without them.

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Poem copyright R. Paul Sardanas
Artwork copyright Steve Mannion

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