Swirling faces dance about,
costumed paraders shriek and shout.
On the staircase Red Death appears,
his head of death glaring stony leers.
His kingly descent is balletic,
his movement a picture purely aesthetic.
On his scarlet cloak is stitched,
golden lettering that has guests bewitched.
“Don’t touch me! I am Red Death
stalking abroad!”
A white and black domino sweep by,
hiding from some unseen eye.
Hurrying to a box that is vacant,
surrounded by lovers in boxes adjacent.
The masculine domino is confused,
as to why they are running from her muse.
Who is this strange Angel? he demands,
Alas! she will not answer to his commands.
A foolhardy buffoon scorns Red Death’s commands,
and gropes at his cloak in spite of demands.
A skeletal hand with strength like a vise,
and tosses the man before he blinks thrice.
None dare touch this demon who stalks,
with precision, no unhesitant balks.
He disappears as abruptly as he came,
from thin air he is gone, his entrance the same.
Copyright 2000, Ryan Barton