Melissa Poem by Rebekah Gamble

An ivory goddess
lies on a white-washed grave.
Her raven hair
sweeps the dead
and flatters them to blushing.
My dear dark goddess,
may I hear your song?
Even nightingales of glass
can not compete
with your perfect song.
A cry is heard
throughout the land
which rocks the nations
and crumbles skeletons
so that none but I am left standing
before her gem-like eyes.
'A glorious note' I murmur
until the pain is gone.

written 3.28.o5