The Best Fiddlers

by beeseeker

Nailhead moon is a
Soundless, sun-at-night howl;
Goblin airs and spirit winds
Hurry to join the hunt.
Cloudless Victorian-ink sky
Gives no place to hide,
Shrinks violently away
With breathless, boneless
Silent ghost of scream.

There is fear abroad this night,
Be never in doubt –
For the Devil is undoubtedly
Evil incarnate –
But doesn’t he also have
The best fiddlers?


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