My Demon

My Demon - a reading (on YouTube)

I wait

Alone

Afraid

Not wanting her to arrive

Not wanting his suffering to continue.

When she finally enters,

How many will she claim

Before returning to the shadows,

Sated?

She slips in softly,

A lover sipping each contented breath

As she lingers for a long-anticipated kiss,

Her beauty both dreadful and vivid.

Terrified, he seeks my eyes for comfort,

Not understanding my tears

Until he feels the needle's kiss

And my face fades into darkness.

Life is fragile,

More precious as it’s ending.

The needle is quick,

The memory slow

But just as deadly.

Years later, the demon still haunts my dreams.

4/17

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III

Venom

Venom - a reading (on YouTube)


“If you fill yourself

With venom,

Only you will

Be poisoned.”

Tell that to

The cottonmouth,

The scorpion,

The brown recluse.

Tell it to

The honeybees,

The hourglass,

The vision snake.

4/17

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III

Forest

Forest - a reading (on YouTube)

A dark and brooding forest,

Not the yellow-green of spring reborn,

The bruise of evergreens in snow.

A thousand voices whisper through the needles,

A thousand ghosts released by winter’s wind,

The ghosts of a thousand ancient trees.

Grey-dun owls perch on grey-dun branches,

Grey-dun shadows waiting to descend,

Taloned ghosts riding the voices of a whisper,

To unsuspecting prey.

5/17

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III

Morning Ritual

Morning Ritual - a reading (on YouTube)

Dark seeds blossom,

Love bruises black.

Souls ascend another massacre,

The Little Death.

Liquid people within

   a glass skin,

Consume the morning’s bouquet,

And live.

08/01

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III

Life's Path

Life's Path - a reading (on YouTube)

I roam the dark forest,

Tossing breadcrumbs out before me.

Even with this trail to follow,

I must be careful not to cast them too far,

Lest the birds eat my markers,

And I lose my way again.

11/96

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III

Sunday Servitude

Sunday Servitude - a reading (on YouTube)

The shrill cry of a leaf blower.

The distant answer of its rival.

Sprinklerheads chatter warnings

As they spray territorial rounds.

Or whisper quiet longings

For gray rains gone dry.

Weedeaters graze the shade,

Avoiding the heat of the day.

A push-button lackey

Opens the cell door,

Revealing six days of caged neglect

For each of harsh disdain.

Lungs choked by oily grime

From their last morning in the yard.

Stomachs filled with burning fluid,

Fuel for this seventh day's labor.

Bodies kicked and cursed

Until they spark to life.

With a crack of the pull-rope,

The Masters drive their mowers to the fields.

7/96

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III

Felicia

Felicia - a reading (on YouTube)

As my winter ends,

Yours begins.

While the others bask in spring

And glow with their rebirth,

Your fire begins to fade,

A candle to the dawn.

The morning sky grows sickly.

I watch my friend die.

But as long as I remember

You will never die.

Remember your name

And the happiness

Of our first days together.

Remember you were family

When I had

Or wanted none.

Remember how you followed me

After the month

I was away.

Remember your eyes

Begging me

Not to leave again.

Now I follow where you lead,

Always wanting you near

For fear of

Tomorrow.

When I will stand behind the door,

Aching for your return,

Knowing it is too soon

To follow.

4/96

© 2017 Edward P. Morgan III