Tarantelle Duende

	by Nightshade Morgan

		***

Atropos cutting threads 
	to the tune of a love song on MTV

The dreaded loom in the moving van
	on the way to a nice retirement

Somewhere outside of Fort Lauderdale
	beneath the shade of palm trees

		***


Before you, all that's left of the harlequins
Who danced in the light of the moon
Making jokes of all the men and their sins
For a Golden Era that ended too soon

	Mandolin strings tweaked against the stars
	And the clouds gathered in march formation
	At ready with their guns to end the farce
	At the heart of all the roving elation

For tradition they belted the icy hail down
And when our skin tingled and the blood rushed to our faces
And our ears rang against the subsiding sound
All the screaming of our revolt washed away
	    without a trace


		***

Yes Grandmother I scream in my sleep
When the pear trees rain fruit
	                      into your waiting baskets
And the women who work downstairs
				 go home to feed their children


You have a bloody flag of truce
   		      	       laid out against the souls of dead men
You use blood for the rust on carriage wheels
					  

Yes Grandmother I know you are alone
On your delecate robin's perch
     		       	      with your golden scissors
And you want company with blonde hair
				     and huge blue eyes


You want to look out and see the sky and the harpies
And beside you the delicate frame
				 of your finest artistry
Returned to you in an outdated package
				               
Yes Grandmother, I know when I make you cry
You punish me in blood
 		      and kill all the things I loved
When you had my eyes sewn shut with
                              	   long mascaraed eyelashes

		***

I had a passion once
		    for salty skin
(Spread out on a huge twin bed)
		    for red cheeked love
(On a cold winter morning)
		    for lips on my throat
(With the salty breath of chocolate roses)
		    
I had a passion once, for passion
As a dose of the all purpose cure

I had a love once
		 we called him Muerte 		 
(and he understood the peace in oblivion)
		 we called him out to duel
(and he never chided us)
		 we called him MERCY on our deathbeds
(and he delivered it to us)

I had a love once, for love
As it priked my fingers and drew blood 

I had a crusade once
		    to the well behind my tears
(and I ripped my eyes out searching)
		    to the beat of that other drum
(the one you thought only you could hear)
		    to the crumbled arch of my brow
(where my shredded eyes wept on)
		    

I had a crusade once, to find a crusade
And came back with glowing eyes

		***

My trembling fingers will not accept your scissors