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YOUNG GIRL'S VISION
Death holds a lighted candle.Amarantha Françoise Dyuaaxchs She is grey And her wings are thin and long and feathered Like a sea gull's. She puts her hands on my quilt, leaning over my bed. Her breath is icy. I push hair and sweat back from my face. I sit up. Death crawls closer to me. Her flickering candle Has a halo. I clutch my heavy bed covers to my thin chest. She has A face of planes, and discarded rags for clothes. She touches my hand.
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