Suicide for Love

Inside the river, between
its glistening surface
and mud-black floors
the moon suspended, neckless
gazing upward at itself.
The light on wings, blacker
crows bundled on its shores,
clinging to albino pines whose
figures lithe as dancing girls
motionless and barefoot.
And I must ask the twisted snake,
whose heart is heartless, whose
dark sad eyes have lured the living
lifeless to its toothless mouth:
Do you believe in life?

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