Dance with the Dead / Deon Foster

I’ll take my leave of you tonight,

O world of living things,

My Lover is calling me from the abyss,

He reads me poetry in my dreams,

Feeds me honey from cold lips.

My Lover now dances with ghouls,

Makes merry with the dead.

Yet he comes to me still,

Haunts me,

Clings to my hem on nights when the moon is full

And all the corpses are out.

Though his heart under Mount Vesuvius lies,

Trapped in a city frozen in lava and time,

I taste him on my tongue like deep red wine,

He lingers on my skin as I sit in my grief

And wish upon a star for his return to me.

How many times must I see your face?

He will not leave me,

Loyal even in death.

How have I missed him,

Ache for him,

Yearn for him,

I give my sorrow as sacrifice,

Flood the earth with the salt in my tears,

Pour from my cup which has long since emptied,

Though my fingers will never feel your face.

Tonight,

Wrap me in the silk of my Lover’s shirt,

Sing me a song of ancient things,

As my body floats down the eldest river,

Set me alight,

Burn me with flame,

Have my dust scatter the shadowy abyss.

Shed moonlight tears and powder sighs,

Tell the truth,

Or whisper lies,

Tonight,

I will dance with ghouls and drink with the dead,

My flesh will melt and my bones will clink as I dance with my Lover in Hades’ den.



Deon Foster is a law student, ardent feminist, fashion enthusiast and burgeoning poet.  Though she is new to being published, she has had an avid interest in literature over the course of her life. Her interest began with Shakespeare and currently now occupied with Tomi Adeyemi, her work is inspired by the use of strong imagery to convey its meaning.Dance with the Dead

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