death will come to you

by Linda M. Crate

the music of the night
stars singing to the indigo
of the sky,
and to the moon mother
dangling
her snobbish nose
above the sea;
this speaks to me in whispers
louder than the carnelian of
your sun smile—
the more you pursue me the harder
i disappear into the heart of
a wood
dancing with stars in the belly of
her streams,
moon beams dancing their astral
silver in my hair
as i gallop away from you;
you are the manticore desiring the magic
of my blood,
and i am the unicorn goring everything
that destroys innocence to the
ground;
but i know i need help when it comes
to you—
i lure you into the forest,
and you follow
without consideration only seeking like a blind
ravenous animal;
i bring you to my bretherin,
and all too late
you see your end etched in the horizon of
story telling sequins dancing
in their jeweled thrones of a night's sky.