Once upon a time
And now, right now,
Drusilla dances barefoot
Among the ruins
That decorate
The salt-rimed shores
Of the Salton Sea-
A place that should
And should never be,
The bones of thousands
Of long dead fish
And seabirds
Glittering in the
Crescent moonlight.
She stalks the rats, the cats,
The bats and the dogs
That linger among
The abandoned houses,
The gutted trailers,
The orphan cars and boats.
She has these places
All to herself, the
Sound of the desert wind
Clattering in the dry
Marsh grass,
A hymn to her,
The shattered virgin.
Overhead a single
Jet flashes ruby lights;
Drusilla giggles,
Pausing as she drifts
Along a salt-caked wharf
Stranded high and dry,
The blood of rats
Dark-dried upon
Her chin, she raises
Slender hands,
Cupping the jet
Like a firefly,
Skirts stained with salt,
She pirouettes,
Before drifting to the
Dying shoreline,
Mineral salts a thin
Crust over quagmire,
Long feet sure
Above the muck,
She quick-steps,
A gavotte from
Sunken car to
Broken palm
To long dead
Oil drum,
Pausing to wave
At the moon,
Who smiles
Blindly back;
Just the two
Of them, barren
Mother of witches
On high-
Below, barren mother
Of demons, who
Once created
A son to love,
A filthy conception
In a dank alleyway.
Where is he now?
This broken Virgin,
Magdeline unrepentant
Does not care-
He no longer
Matters, for
Drusilla is complete,
Along the dying shores
Of the Salton Sea:
She has the moon,
She has the open sky,
The blood of rats, cats,
Dogs and bats,
And herself.