By Stephen B. Bagley
In the failure of his life,
he stirred the ashes,
recognizing each mistake,
his lover there,
his career here,
his hopes scattered
by the brutal wind.
He stood and spread his arms.
His hands couldn’t hold
—he dropped them.
His tongue couldn’t speak
—he spit it out.
His skin flawed and torn
—he sloughed it away.
That which he didn’t need
he would not keep;
all things have a time,
even humanity.
He raised tentacles
to the night sky,
roared his fury
as the ravens circled above,
craned his sinuous neck
to see the town below.
His lipless mouth
curved into a smile.
She would wake to terror,
she would see her unfaithful heart
beating in his grasp,
and her screams would be his lullaby.
(Excerpt from Undying. Copyright 2016 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without prior permission of the publisher.)
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