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Chapter 2 – The Veil

An unkindness of ravens rains,
suicides off the wire, diving toward
blacktop like doomsday bombs,
leveling off, crossing highway
and flowing, liquid moonshadow,
across the stormy desert;
west, toward darker horizons.

The veil is thin, the gate is
opening;
just beyond the next curve of earth,
she waits, and they hie to their
mistress with all haste, heralds to
her arrival screaming their livid
declarations as they go.

This is not cacophony, this is
chaos given focus, pouring like
black mercury off frigid high
desert flats, down river gorge roads,
blood flowing through veins of
the valley like bad intentions.

In the distance the sleeping city
gleams like a diamond ebbing in the
night, the flow of energy waning as
the Hour draws near, the Coven
gathers on the hill, the blue full moon,
red fire compete and the danse macabre
begins as the veil begins to fall

© 2020 Shane Douglas Keene

Published inPoetryThe Halloween Book

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