Death in Blue Satin
Death stares at me
across a red-edged night,
his eyes smoking
the memory of my apprehension.
This relentless suitor,
robed in blues so confining
they cuff the darkness,
lets the silence wear his words.
He touches my wrist,
and I am pulled
through the feathered blackness
of a past not my own.
I am reborn.
Death stares at me,
confined by time,
and lights my breath
with the debts of history.