It must have been twenty years ago
The chariots of Bacchus roared through the streets
I had seen the horses rise above the revelers
Half submerged like some rotting pieces of wood
She slept the living death beneath her sheets
I sat beside the window warm and curious
The parades and festival swirling in the streets below
In the basement a disorderly cook had left the oven
From the moon they must’ve seen the blaze
Dancing on the night sky as a fitting backdrop
To the long journey of Bacchus across the city
Red serpents probed the room from beneath the door
Dancing to the rabid drums upon the street
Consuming, growing, filling the room with smoke
I sat, curious, unwavered in my stare upon the dead
The serpent’s breath was not disturbed by her mouth
No breath shaped it, accepted it, pushed it away
I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could
The Blazing Star was leaning over the sky
Reaching down to the children of the Earth
Red plastic buckets and black flowers
From the east the storms were approaching
Knowledge always seeped from beyond that horizon
The Morning Star shining down His wisdoms