The Spirit of the Dead Keeps Watch

The spirit of the dead keeps watch

on night's lolling sand-filled tongue,

the tropical heat has been unsung

it is a nimbus of diabolism

trapped between blood-browned flesh

and a flaxen pallor--- misplaced,

for fear is as instinctive as slumber

it does not show up in the aftermath

'

The spirit of the dead keeps watch

under its eye, eternity for you

is only the viscous trickle of pain

until pleasure; in the demon's domain

the lalang1 songsters have imploded,

scattering your dirty secrets

against receding dusk, but

it is timeless and age soaks in, like the

chromatographer's dreaded diffusion

of black into arteries

'

The spirit of the dead keeps watch

its duteous night-scribe is chronicling

the gripping weight of your insomnia

shaped, hardened by the corporeal heat

why, you are only an accumulation of meat!

on the mortal chequebook

there is no palpable majesty

no disquietly vulgar motive

batik-ed into strange un-blossomings;

while you position pyre postures

religiously prostrated on your belly

the lurking end is an all-knowing smile

'

The spirit of the dead keeps watch

and there is nothing

you can do but dream

of dawn

---

Footnotes

1 grass plant , resembling tuffs of cotton wool, which disperses its seeds by wind