the vampire speaks to the receptionist
Yes, I have them, your angels of the law,
caught under a bridge
just as the evensong gave out,
just as the traffic dropped her clothes and
settled into the stormy splitting after-bath,
when everyone goes his own way.
Yes, I caught them just as the wings
of the interstate overpass
turned deep blue and saturnine.
They hesitated, looked at me as at an answer.
I gave a promissory smile, and that’s how it ended -
not really, but ending is a delicacy,
an urge of mine.
Not even the long foam of the shivering ocean
can choke or convince me; nor the obvious ghost,
nor the blistering stars.
They followed me like children, not unfamiliar with
the everlasting, they know
the artifice of death, the road to forever
lined with bond paper and tears. Thus begins their longest mediation,
the one they will never write about, but they will see
the experience is worth it, it is their emptiness I will eat.
Yes, I would like to talk to these gentlemen, to know
what they think of the light, now
they have left it. Did it always move as it was
supposed to? Does it fill the lips of the same
amaranthine goddesses of justice, purity, financial planning,
whose visages I muss by night?
I never walk without I kiss
some place I think the light has landed.
I want to know what they remember, what will be
thickening in me as the grave drops
into a foolish futurity, an adolescent fascination.
Your lines are free.