The Lucifer Cantos 12/13

XII

A tick of clock, a click, a flip of card.
Outside, the night is silken, sequin-starred.
I show a full house, aces over kings,
and gather chips, but mope on absent things.

Death takes the pack, the cards upon the baize,
harvests the royals, rounds up all the strays,
long lashes, casual as the end of all,
a smiling youth whose touch was deity’s fall.

I still recall our kiss, the madman’s face,
the mewling horror crawling, his disgrace —
but turn, remember Heaven’s empty creche,
dogs barking exodus to holy flesh.