by Rebecca Huggins
Above the darkening moon doth rest,
By Morpheus’ wings thy soul’s bequest,
To stir a mourner’s crêpe[1] veil,
A waning flame of hope prevailed.
And in thy yonder parlour sleeps,
An aging corpse of languid feats.
Doth hinder do your secrets rest?
Upon thy bloody, sodden chest!
Yet in the midnight hour dawns,
A morning hastened by cloaked Thanatos[2].
© 2010 Rebecca Huggins. All rights reserved.
[1] French version of the Anglicized “Crape” or material of particularly crisp or crimped appearance that is woven from silk, wool, or polyester fabric of a gauzy texture.
[2] In Greek mythology, Thanatos was the daemon personification of Death. The Greek poet, Hesiod, established in his Theogony that Thánatos is a son of Nyx (Night) and Erebos (Darkness) and twin of Hypnos (Sleep).
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rebecca Huggins is a graduate from East Tennessee State University where she received her master's degree in education, and is the publisher and editor-in-chief of Black Lantern Publishing and its imprints, Broomstick Books and Crow's Nest Magazine. She holds a literature degree in English from King College. When she isn't writing, reading, or editing, she's spending time with her husband, two dogs and cat, watching movies and listening to Swedish rock bands.
