Paul StJohn Mackintosh

Writing * Poetry * Dark Fiction * Weird * Fantastic * Horror * Fantasy * Science Fiction * Literature

New poem

This is actually a variation on a French original by Albert Giraud from “Pierrot lunaire.” The bizarre thing is I’d forgotten the original completely when I wrote this.


Black Butterflies

The sinister black butterflies
arise at twilight, taking flight
to flutter under pallid skies

in utter quiet and alight
on ashen lawns, a pall that lies
across grass sickened by their blight.

Crepuscular, in subfusc guise,
vespertine harbingers of night,
their ultrablack scales’ dust deep-dyes

the Stygian scene to blot out sight;
probosces suck up blood that dries
in clotted pools absorbing light.

Evening, exsanguinated, dies,
leached lifeless by a thirsty flight
of sinister black butterflies.

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