Nocturnes: Like Unto Cressida

[for Kathleen C--- K---:  especially June through September, 2012]

 

I do not need a new identity.
The one that I have brought to earth with me
will do as well; the human, female look
of twenty-something; sheer, tan pantyhose
(shoeless; my lover likes to kiss my toes).
The preparation stage now nears its end.
The earth's final destruction is assured.
The thought of this, so like their science fiction;
their punishment (and ours the swift infliction
of it) possesses me like an addiction.
My lover---still surprised I would befriend
him, as he is, and give my stockinged feet
to him for pleasure---does not see the ruse
I play (and I do play it by the book).
I own him every time I take my shoes
off, and he does not question my deceit,
the fool. He is a prop. I will not mind
to leave his ashes, with the earth's, behind.
The detonation will not be deterred.

The vengeane we planned will not be deferred.

 

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