Now that's a word you don't hear too often,
suggesting crossed spears and a skull before the path
a box covered with arabesques and sealed with red wax
embossed with a bishop's miter
a dirt road barred with crude railings and a sign saying "Keep Out"
a gilt-edged book sealed in black ribbons
a locked door with a strange light flickering at its corners,
a drink found in a cabinet, with a pulsating iridescent glow.

you glance over your shoulder to find no one is looking,
you burst into the darkened trees,
and work your way breathless through thorns and vines
stumbling on rocks covered by the mud below
and after the wooded darkness a sunlit meadow thick with Queen Anne's Lace
and a high reach of blackberries, beautiful blackberries in thick clusters
it was the blackberries all along,
shiny and wet and bursting with tiny pockets of juice
and you place some on your tongue and they break,
spilling their bitter sweetness in your mouth
and tiny rivulets of purple run down your cheeks
and onto your fresh white shirt (but you don't care)
and you picture yourself carnivorous and bloodied with purple
and realize the sudden high intensity of hues:
the greens so strong they electrify
the poinsettia-reds so bright they nearly blind
and you look away and see the glistening white skeleton of a deer
between the bushes and you go to it
and pull off the antlers and hold them onto your head
and tears run down your face and you move your feet
and it begins to rain a warm tropical rain and you dance
forward quick-quick-quick backward quick-quick-quick
forward quick-quick-quick backward quick-quick-quick
delicious lovely berries and now hear the bells
the bells so beautiful are ringing
and iguanas come off an outcrop of rocks to laugh and flick their heads
and only then do you see brown-stained bones in the rain
of those who came before you lying on the ground
in the shadows of the blackberries
and hear the laughter of ravens
and the chatter of mockingbirds
and a rustle in the bushes
and your eyes find the coffee-brown feet
of a tattooed woman, a lei of black orchids and ivory talons on her breast
pale snakes moving round her arms
and in the distance from the woods you left
you realize that all the trees have
aged and disdainful faces in their bark
and they're gathered like priests for a ritual
and you're at the center of it all
and suddenly you're nudged
and someone has dimmed the light
and unfastened your wings
and covered you with a blanket
and turned off the television
and the cat is looking up at you wanting another feeding
and a warm soft light is coming from the bedroom
and you blink and hear
Honey are you coming to bed?
and you look down and see your shoes are muddy
and fingertips stained with purple