By: Jetta Whitehurst
Deadly dancing daggers unsheathe-
From meaty, gnarled hands beneath.
Your fate, to me, you bequeath.
Sweat drips down from your curling chin
To pool upon my pleading skin,
As you meet me with that wide-toothed grin.
I sense hesitancy. Do you dare?
A blade skims my hair as I stare.
My gaze suspends your heart mid-air.
It falters, skips its steady beat,
As a sudden rush of heat, complete,
Burns you flush, from head to feet.
My siren-like hypnosis invades your mind,
Pulsing melodies till your thoughts grow numb, confined,
Making you mindless, as your eyes turn blind.
The candle’s last light fades away.
Its final breath turns night to gray,
As you collapse from where you sway.
Your body sags, your grip grows weak
A silent sigh- our shadows meet.
The final note hangs, soft and deep,
As deadly daggers drift to sleep.
Jetta Whitehurst is a recent graduate from Kennesaw State University with a double major of Journalism and Theatre. She currently works as Visual Arts Instructor at Woodstock Arts and as a member of RepTour, Woodstock Arts’ Repertory Touring Troupe focusing on education and literature through the performing arts. She can often be found hiking, traveling, writing poetry, and hanging out with her little brother.