DYBBUK MASQUE XCV #121

Oil on canvas -------- SHE DOES NOT FEED Like some base carrion bird. She requires artful displays of her meals. Spirits vanish into her bones And are found later As shattered instruments. Cracked masks. Bones arranged in perfect symmetry. When she feeds The air smells of rosewater and copper. Only when appeased through performance Can she be made to fight. When sated Her barrages fall like symphonies: Each strike a chord Each lance a blinding note. Yet she can be wounded As now.