A Single Deadly Stroke

The earthy, sickly sweet odor of black gold
wafts through the stuffy air 
mixing with the quiet murmurs and abrupt giggles 
of long red hair and stickly scruff.
Pale light filters through a blanket of grey 
accentuating the pallid firefly yellow.

Cotton snakes travel down my arm to 
half cover my pink-red palms
as white protrusions are posed above 
black keys.

My black-blue pits are rooted on the bright white before me
while I wander aimlessly in the field of fresh snow 
that lay across the frosted glass.
Out in another world.

Horses and knights gallop through
clouds of flakes kicked up by gales and gusts.
They storm castles of pine
and wade rivers of melting ice
in search of glory.

The red feathered princess is nestled
in her prison of twig and bur
and sings her warbling melody of woe.
Deep inside oak, 
the furry giant slumbers
guarding the golden heartwood treasure.


My tools of pale bone are frozen still.
A single keystroke
will slay the sugar plumb king and 
end this tale of brilliant silver.