The February Selected Poet is Alexis Child
Please feel free to email Alexis at: alexis.nocturna@rogers.com
DIALOGUE BETWEEN GOD AND THE GHOST
Where we lie, numb as a fossil,
night arrives closing doors with
little sighs, starless and motherless.
Fleeing through my fingers, I am bled
white most devout with quick hands,
like spiders on a string casting off my
identity in fatal equilibrium, blank
as when I was born; Sunday's ghost
cannot rest seeking dead men's cries.
The hunter appears clothed in the skin
of his kill, corpse-white, walking after
other gods which he knows not, burning
incense as an offering to Baal, standing
before me, chattering among the leprous.
The wait for the angel has begun, but no
miracle will occur in a dead lover's eye.
Grief has an honest grimace, blackening
flesh to bone, flowering and devouring me.
DEADLY VOICES
Dead head, boneless
Under a flat stone
Breathing without dreams
Black blood to blame
The devil ate it once
In a murderous air
My new face is on
Now speak of her
The invention of a lie
Hooked by fakery
I cannot touch
A terrible truth
Ugly inside
Dismal and unsafe
Breeding like flies
Voiceless and new
I may be back
INTO THE LABYRINTH
My reappearance is a rumor
As eyes move towards extinction
I hang like a frightened child
In deep division, a tangled labyrinth
A time out of mind
The distant past is beyond memory
The skin does not fit
A jacket of ashes
Cobweb of life
Imitation of a ghost
I no longer know where I've been
And now I am no longer there
ENTROPY
The world seethes in my gut
I am trained to live in ugliness and
urban decay; never speaking of freedom
You once touched us singing
dust after each lingering note
dull words dark and burning
An indwelling ghost
faint and fugitive
I am crossing the Rubicon
the point of no return
like an eviscerated host
Death , shall I laugh or smile?
I bled and I was beautiful
bathing the Gods with stinging tears
You wished more for me
piercing daggers of liquid fear
I am breathing the dreaming world
painted amongst the hoary haloed saints
who will die quite suddenly
in a whispering of flames unseen
I had achieved my apocalypse
And there was nothing I could not be
Alexis Child hails from Toronto, Canada and loves horror in its purest form. She works at a Call Crisis Centre befriending demons of the mind that roam freely amongst her writings. She lives with a Calico-cat child who goes sleuthing for all things that go bump in the night.
Her poetry and fiction have been featured in numerous online and print publications, including Black Petals, Estronomicon eZine, Midnight Lullabies Anthology, Sein und Werden, Sinfully Twisted Magazine, Tales of the Talisman, Whispers of Wickedness and elsewhere. Her book, Devil in the Clock, will be released in print in the near future by WitchFinder Press.
Visit Alexis HERE.