STARK NIGHTS

Glittering slug trails bloom and drip,
from red raw eyes, painted black
with sooty kohl,
drawing dark-lead streaks
that sluice through layers
of too dark makeup;
cultivating deep-soiled banks
in smile-stiffened cheeks.
Pools rise
in spit-crusted corners
of an overwide mouth that,
salt-dried and stinging,
gurns cavernously with
portcullis teeth rusted open,
creaking, grinding,
gnawing on emotional cud.
Pain that could be swiftly salved,
by the anointing of oil
or water,
Or the balm of kind words,
From the one who swings the gaslight.

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