“An elegy for a tragedy about to occur” by Alan Catlin

She was the black angel in
the heart of a murder ballad,
without a soul, blue eyes like
dry ice in a locked chamber
where all the unidentified are
stored, face posed Bette Davis
style, so mad dog crazy,
her lips were white foam coated,
split at the corners but bloodless
as cut worms in the fresh buds
of picked flowers. Nights she stalked
the images of dreamers shocked
awake, off key singing a song of
her own invention, “brown fields
forever…” The weeds she planted
as wayward thoughts in susceptible
minds, flourished as sublunar
memories even before they occurred.
Her insanity was a gift that could
never be returned.

Alan Catlin
Alan Catlin is the poetry editor of misfitmagazine.net. His latest books of poetry are American Odyssey from Future Cycle and Last Man Standing from Lummox Press
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