The Dead Dance Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Nubian caress, your joy repressed
Sargon kingdoms where thorns sing
Restless winds that steal dreams
Nothing vulnerable in the purple night
Candle burns like a séance
Her ghostly gown of blue moonlight
We make love without love

Can darkness warm the coldest heart?
Have you cut yourself to feel?
Do tattoos elate Aphrodite’s appetite?
She dresses like an elegant funeral parlor
Silhouettes shrouded on a lifeless stage
They move like a starless morgue
The dead dance slowly like frozen stones