Tag: Reading

The Lady of Shalott

Half-sick of shadows –
I weave tapestries that cry and die.

My loom is cursed to make no life,
to snip on threads like the fates.

I am forced to sit and watch
as my only dream unties and unravels.

Their innocence preserved by such sleep,
the lily’s putrid perfume lingering on them.

This room, their mass grave,
carpeted with pale corpses.

The candles snuff out one by one
as Death collects flies from the web.

They have passed
onto the other side of the mirror,

floating down the river
to my moonlit lament.

Previously published in Alien Buddha Zine.