The Red Theatre

Tonight we wish our kisses were sweeter
And our Adore of widened eyes true
But, if structured, may horror not seat Her
In the Red Theater's highest pew
A lobby of ghosts swills laughter, banter
That carries their ring to the eaves;
Down through the isles they frolic, canter
But close-faced and seat their mouths ease,
And slackened themselves to curtain quivering
Anticipating the start of the show
Little feet dance, glass eyes delivering:
You are the loneliest ghost in the row.


The Golden-Brown Cherubs

Opalescent reflection of fire's kiss
To the eyes and the mouth and the tongue
Brown gypsy legs toe in time to bliss
Rolick of the decadent-most rung
Children of earth, these beets and these roots
Strum lyres whose string imitate silk
They're silent for all but soft silver flutes
And their smiles dissolve in warm milk
No devil or ghoul had ever so sweet
A facade with which light seems to mesh
And what a delight to find tiny teeth
Sink in, ripping muscles from flesh.