the asp was forced
into it’s devil role….
his shining body
pricking with intention
sliding through the folds of pathetic drama
to fulfil this desperate pantomime..
fictitious grief……love bite on her breast
and pharaohs shadow
a private dancer on the wall
tangled in hieroglyphic orders….
gold is swiped in sparkling distraction and crowns falter.
the dark, the dusk
comforts and fills our lungs
with night magic and secret calm…..
crickets peddle their wares
and frogs croak distantly
smells of swamp fertility
mark our hearts with gentle peace
the nile slides black and full
lapping inky rhythm.
Back inside the guards are shouting
wine has spilled
and the golden breast fades into blue
her ego departs
none the wiser
to the lapis castle in the sky