The Lady in Black

Stop moaning
For your husband,
You are now, my lady in black;

Your black heels are piercing
His grave
-the cruel concept of fidelity-
And my burning brain;

My lady in black
Dance your delicate fingers
through my bones,
My skin,
my insanity –of which I hope I won’t be healed-

I swear to your scent
Your husband has decayed
Six feet under:
indifferent, unable to hear-
As your velvet body
is tearing your brick dress
Under my restless fingers.