BY DR. AGONSON
Don’t wake the dead tonight
don’t whisper in their ear
don’t raise this awful fright
don’t play around with fear
Just let the past lie down in dust
and let the dreams of life all fade
but if you’re doomed, and if you must
just let her sleep where she’s been laid.
Don’t break the seal
don’t go inside
don’t make the deal…
At least I tried
She rises from her stony bed
all terrible and pale,
and slowly, watch, she turns her head
to see who’s there, whose hail
has called her forth on this eclipse
under the moon’s red death.
She sees. A smile spreads her lips—
a smile void of breath—
Though dead her eyes, a horrid smile’s
spreading at your gift.
She walks over the boney piles;
past lovers clink and shift.
The shrunken shroud, tight on her frame,
parts torn in waving streams,
long ages in this crypt must claim,
a long decay it deems.
And there you stand
with open arms
reach out your hand
for deadly charms
Now you embrace the living dead
amorous farce, bower entombed
and on your blood she’s swollen, fed
you plant your seed while you’re consumed
This union with the grave,
what foul spawn will attest?
By passions made a slave,
what hope is there of rest?
Tale Told 