byHer headdress gleams ethereal in light
As eerily she dances in the night.
Her verdant ball-gown whirls and twirls, it seems,
Like a f*******n pleasure from one’s dreams.
The emerald sheen of her fine dress of silk
Distracts the eye from skin like soured milk.
Her suitors trailed behind, across the floor,
Inhaling her perfume, like once before.
They dance together to eternal song;
Their poisoned flesh still holds, yet not for long.
And when their heartbeats lose their rhythmic dance,
They dance in arsenic, in Death’s grim trance.
