The Devil’s Black Mascara


Situating lies to achieve greatness
was the optimal goal
while believing consciousness
alone
would readily defeat
the darkness lying beneath
the sun’s satin rays.

She did not believe it was happening.
Staring, squinting out the window;
her face pressed hard against the glass
Chin gently drooped, resting upon her unsteady chest.
“Go slow. Make no remarks. Stay calm”
was the message revealed through
her smokey breath.

Panic had begun to set in
as she stretched
her rigor mortised limbs
and fluttered her crusted
eyelashes-yawning-
and they flaked
about her withered lips.

Fury had awakened,
blocking out the last
golden glimpse
of hope
to save the repenting
sinners
now flooding the church yards.

No miracles left
to outweigh this grand finale
as with one fluid,
sweeping
motion of her
serpent tongue
across those flame-scorched
lips
darkness, light,
and all mankind
disintegrated
like her lashes,
as she swallowed,
but never batted an
eye.

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