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Wednesday, April 27, 2016

The Scorpion on the Moon

So, sorry about slacking off on the ficlets-- I left you right in the middle of a whole werewolf thing, and then RT happened.  I'll get back to more of that this weekend I promise--but for now, I'm feeling an odd need for poetry.

But first, Big T's friend asked Neil Gaiman a question--and Neil answered it on tumblr-- the question was about grammar, and, per usual, Neil's response is many shades of perfect:

And now, for some free-form weirdness.  But when is this blog NOT about free form weirdness?

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The Scorpion on the Moon

I saw him, in the shadows, a pale young man
Touched by the light of the moon.
The light glowed on his skin
Turned his cheekbones into swords,
His canines lengthened
The sign of immortal doomed.

The moon was my friend.

It showed me his secrets
The gentle and tender
The touch at the heart of his
Shadowed divinity.
His lips gently curved
In a smile for me
Even as his fangs pierced
My throbbing vein.

The moon was my friend.

I fell in love with a vampire
In the light of the full moon.

There is a scorpion hiding
In the shadow on the moon--
Like a poisonous car
In a darkened garage.

It scuttles with spider-legs
Stealthy and furtive
Where is it now? The danger

The moon waxes, the scorpion huddles
Oh, only the shadows!
It plans it's advance.

Where is it now? A liquid puzzle,
Armed with it's venom
And flesh-stripping claws!


My flesh has been torn!
The barb's pierced my heart!
I grow cold and pale from a surprise attack!

Oh! Oh no!

My lover's been punctured,
His skin and flesh scraped
Back from cold bones!
He's blood now, not moonlight!
A corpse rotting in plain sight
Another victim
Of the cold Scorpion moon.

I sit now in sunlight
And yearn for my lover,
Not warmed by the day.
Sunshine! Sweet sunshine!
Spills over my eyes, my cheeks
And my throat,
A lover's touch at my breast.

I do not dwell in the night.
The joy of cold starlight
Forever denied.
My lover is ashes
My hope scattered with it.

The light in the darkness
Burns cold strips on my skin.

The moon was never my friend.

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