Now Playing: Holocaust, A Love Poem

Holocaust: A Love Poem

Burning

Burning from yearning,

a lambent lament.

Hands reach out from Limbo, decisions are spent,

nickeled and dimed out of heaven and still won't repent.

No quarter, no quarters.

My kingdom for water.

Burning.

Turning from burning,

beet-rooted red

Beatrice yearns for the curtains, her black phoenix bed.

Turgid screams from the sirens claw the night air.

Sirens, who sing for their supper, dear lover, BEWARE.

Unquenchable singing.

Combustible ire, ashen desire.

Valentine pyre.

--Bella Q

February 2010

(Poet'snote: more Stevie Smith than Sylvia Plath, but there you have it.)