hymne a la beauté
adapted from Les Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire
teach me how to fly or kill me with a kiss
I see stars in your eyes, shining with all the same elements
as the eternal fires at the bottom of the world
the sun that warms until it burns,
the stinging sweet stretch of love’s first tryst
desire seeds the air like clouds are seeds of storms
kiss me like sipping wine, drown me in a downpour
linger along the edges where light leaks through the seams
like a stray cat adopting the home that feeds it,
your affection is conditional
absorbing everything and saying nothing
you are made of ghosts, walking over graves
your crown of pig iron spiked with jeweled shards
of fear and trembling, all the names of your dead
proudly etched into the walls of your heart
candle light is a mysterious knife,
warmth and flame framed by shadow, strong lines
come join me in this renaissance light
and tell me if I am dying or if I’ve awakened
Prometheus stole fire from the gods
God cast his archangel into fire for the same
if you find a match and lay it in the palm of my hand
I cannot but strike it, take my place in your game
hallelujahs sung by harpies, these sirens once had wings
the beginning never matters like the end of things
wrap me up forever with velvet covered claws
and melt down all my chains to forge my bridal rings.
Monica Deck is a writer, recurve archer, and really good at procrastinating with projects that aren’t her first novel. She is a MFA candidate specializing in creative nonfiction and narrative medicine, and occasionally moonlights as a project manager.
