PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Marquis DeSade's death caught him in this way.
He had received a long awaited book
after much searching:  an infernal play,
titled The Spectacles Of Cruelty,
never performed upon our licensed stages,
and said (by some) to be far more perverse
than all his writings multiplied together.
For quite some time, he suffered over whether
the statement might be true---and when it came
(bearing a closeted, insidious fame;
a challenge to his own), he had a look.
Apparently, the drama is far worse
in horror than the evils on his pages.
His darting eyes distended as he read.
His face purpled.  His neck jerked, hard.  His head
lolled over as, out of his mouth, a scream---
more chilling than a demon's damnedest dream---
emerged, like none we ever heard.  It broke
to silence in the symptoms of a stroke.
The volume fell out of his hand as he
fell from the chair, as palsy wrenched one side;
then coma; and, this afternoon, he died.
 
Starward
 
[jlc]