I cast my spell upon the frigid sea
In hope, with blood and ash, I stained the tide,
that demons beneath would shape from death a bride.
Then she who slept beneath the waves was free!
Once chained by death beneath the frigid sea,
unfettered, now she arises to stand beside
her groom who calls and must not be denied.
And she who fed the beasts below is free!
Though icy waters failed to taint such grace,
the hungry life below the waves had fed
upon the flesh of her beloved face.
I sought one fair, but found a corpse instead,
a living corpse that shares my table and bed,
the soulless thing I summoned from the dead.
Lamont Turner is a New Orleans area writer and father of four. His work has appeared in numerous print and online publications.
Published 2/14/20