The Death of Ectoplasm
In my dream this epoch battle rages
between angels and demons. My mom,
is Mother Goose. She barks and barks
at my dad, who is Jack Sprat.
They are fighting over me and my siblings,
whether we should be fed to the Ectoplasm,
or simply turned over to Beezlebub.
The demons race for the high ground,
my parents take up the rear. Angels
reach the peak first and blow the shofar,
preparing for a bloodbath. The demons,
already frightened by the trumpets, see
that the angels are not human-like,
and begin falling like flies.
Michael and Gabriel
execute all the Ectoplasm.
I see Michael staring into my face, longing
to understand the spirit in me. I snap to,
and I'm relieved that my dream
is a vision. The sky is not actually falling,
and I will not
be fed to the Big Bad Wolf.
© by DB Lindsey
All Rights Reserved
The Sweetest Song (For Dawn) My lovely wife, my spine and central core, Two minds conformed, sit reciting day By day—a ceaseless piece preparing for: The time when bodies split and cannot play. A song so sweet, we lovers cannot stop, Nor bear, we fear, one player leave the set. Our days are gifts, which we determine not, And each is given death’s certificate. We etch our magnum opus from the heart, This masterpiece, the Maestro knows, performs For Love Divine, who knew it from the start: A fine sonata plays throughout life's storms. Once gone from earth, may songs in which we play Make angels weep and God appreciate. DB Lindsey Jr © 26 November 2011