Tuesday, October 22, 2013

V. 2, #207: October 22, 2013 ("Zé do Caixão")

The Undertaker stood behind the tomb
and drummed his taloned nails upon the stone.
He smiled to think of every splintered bone
he'd placed inside the crypt. There still was room.

The girl stood weeping near the parish priest
as four young village men let out the ropes
that lowered to his rest the one her hopes
had centered on. Well, that was done, at least.

Soon he would call upon his hunchbacked slave
to bring her to his flat. Then he would see
if she was strong enough to bear his son.
If so, he would know immortality
through blood; if not, he'd find another one.
Joe smiled, his eyes and soul black as the grave.


Scott said...

A sonnet tribute to Brazilian horror bogeyman José Mojica Marins, aka "Coffin Joe." I am a big fan of his films, and hope to meet the writer/director/actor himself this weekend at a horror festival.

Obscure, I know--but hey, it's my blog. :)

Serena said...

Too, too perfect for the season, obscure or not. And what the heck, it IS your blog.:)