Writing Prompt #125 “NoEnd House Part 6″


Her cloven eyes do not escape

The looking glass, a coven

Of intermediaries and disguises.

A siren that orders men

With a treacherous wink

And a scandal of silk,

Barely adequate.

Carmine lips recede

In a mute flash of nocturnal envy.

What happens in the dark

Leaves a treble in the voice.

She scares easily

And to her own detriment.

There is no might left in her heart

Only an impossible pressure

Like the swelling of smoke

Behind a cast iron door.

She is not one to take risks

But here she endures,

Grim-faced and dispassionate.

A hand that does not listen

But climbs the ghost of her curves

In search of something irreplaceable.

A womb, scooped pelvis

Empty as a Jack-O-Lantern

There is nothing left of her now.