Serious Writers Mustn’t Ever Write Poems About Vampires

He lifts a glass

He drinks to the vein on her neck

Age stands up from the table next to her

It leaves the room

Death stands up from the table next to her

It leaves the room

The crease of his mouth grows cruel with a trickle of wine

The arms of the clock fall limp

She waits

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4 thoughts on “Serious Writers Mustn’t Ever Write Poems About Vampires

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