At dVerse Sanaa is hosting poetics with an invitation to write a Gothic poem.
“I was made to rule the darkness.” Rae Hachton
The Gargoyles Near the witching hour the Bell & Candle spewed life into the streets of thick winters night, she, he, arm in arm, dared the other, a walk along darkling stream's thickets to cold cathedral cemetery where death's sting rang off the stone in heavy mortal silence, stilling all but leaping imaginations of shadows, she, he, stole kisses in mocking laughter beneath the angry walls of judgement, she, he, succumbed to the ancient spell of heated congress as above them narrow eyed gargoyles leered near, she, he, stumbled onwards home, she looking back to footfalls sounding, he hearing nothing, blithely, blindly, fell behind as she hastened to her bed, while ever the footfalls pounding, her heart pulsing, stretched naked. In the morning she stroked his impassive face looking for life, where in that one glorious hour, stone had enfleshed its leering lust. ©Paul Vincent Cannon