Red stiletto heels tap a sinister beat
On slick marble steps
Leading to heavy maple doors
Access to the Chapel
She's not there for Mass
She is there as a test
A chilly breeze greets her
Do I dare dip a finger In the font of Holy Water?
Water boils, then bubbles with steam
Heat rises to a crescendo
The sinner laughs at the Godly reply
The click of the heels
Echo through an empty church
She calculates her way
To the alter in front
Passing aged wooden pews
With their well worn bibles
Her black dress and sin stained lips
Just part of her mask
Saintly glass stained with rainbow hues
Begin to crack
The icy breeze has morphed
Spinning a ghastly gale wind
Sending shards of stained glass
Flying about the holy grounds
I must make it to the altar
To stand under the crucifix, she mutters
The place where the father pontificates
She recalls from days since passed
Her ivory skinned hand, so pale
Whispers a touch of the cloth
Seemingly to recoil from the breach of evil
She picks up the challis
To drink the wine of the holy
Swirling winds extinguish
Each candle lit by the flock
Now a church lay in ruins
At her devilishly heeled feet
A test failed, she thinks to herself
Doomed to hell, am I
Silently she slithers out
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, huge dash of creativity here. Your ingenuity knows no bounds.; -) Red /stillettos the most perfect name and imagery for this one.