#ranibooks

A stage was set, a table, prepared
Having the ark's width and length
A banquet - No! A feast
Like unto kings of Rome.

The room was lit with candles
And floating chandeliers
Hung from a house
That had no ceiling.

The cold was dark
And the darkness was blue
The kind of color
The sky never had.

Books replaced an everlasting dinner
Cobwebs spiraling the chairs
The golden set of cups and dishes
Were filled with ancient blood.

Along with the hanging lights
Were the body of men
Heads bowed in justice,
Boney hands given up to fate.

Coffins were aligned...open
Like an assembly of boxes
The faint light exposing smiling bones
That had lost their skin to earth and worms.

Red paint still fresh on the laying weapons
The ones that slept for centuries
Bearing the cross of tears
And the screams of pain.

Whispers flooded the dark day
Where the moon whistled wind
Across the dust that was raised
To cause a hot, acrid mist.

It was time!
Tingles swallowed my ears
While Medusa rang a bell
Bringing sprouts of the afterlife to dry bones.

My breath sunk deep in my abdomen
With relief that I had with me cotton sheets
I didn't need a pen
For feathers and blood were the beacon

A dream or death, I could not say
They were set, waiting at the table in silence
I drew a chair and sat
This was a dining with the dead...

© rani