Saturday, October 10, 2015


You gave me a lock of your hair,
and said--

Well, I can't recall. Something about love.

From the lock of hair,
a head

began to grow, but with lips no one could kiss.

The gray skin, the eye askew, the wild black hair,
half dead--

it spoke in the night and told me you don't care.

Your body is sweet, but the head is there
when you are not,

and honest. Oh, the things you kept from me!
and so much
it has to say.


Sioux said...

Wow! Twisted and true--at least parts of it seem like they're straight and true.

TexWisGirl said...

started so sweetly and BAM! my stomach turned. :)

Kerry O'Connor said...

What a Gothic tale! Perfect for the October milieu.

hedgewitch said...

The winds of October activate all the chills in the muse factory, don't they?--frankly, this brings the grue as only you can, and I can almost --almost, because my fingers are firmly in my ears--hear what the head is so very very eager to let us know that is the last thing we want to hear. Totally creeped out now, in the best possible way. This is a fine piece of the craft, Shay.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Wowzers! A tale as only you can tell it. "And, oh! The things you have to say," Ms Shay. Loved it. Wonderfully macabre.

Outlawyer said...

Agh. Very macabre and fantastical yet also very human. Well done. k.

Cloudia said...

spare a beautiful



Rommy said...

Delightfully chilling!

Lynn said...

Oh my!

Mama Zen said...

Oh, this is delightfully creepy.