poem by Frank De Canio photograph by Fabrice Poussin
I waited out the days allotted you,
like a cad in a one-sided romance;
postponing dinner date and rendezvous,
while you sat out my philanderig dance.
But charming as an old-world gentleman,
disease’s courtship swept you off your feet,
then sent you cards and flowers till you ran
away with him. Wrapped in your winding sheet,
it might have been the silk, cathedral train
of a bridal dress. Transfigured by light,
your pale cheeks glowed, as though they’d still maintain
a maiden blush, until that solemn night,
when prepossessing as a newly wed,
death sealed your lips and carried you to bed.
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