by Ivy Sanzone

he was a tree, struck by lightning.

[tall, thin, blackened]

but his skin was metallic silver

when the light hit just right

and his hair hung in long tresses

which shone like coal, in its earthy way.

he had a crown of metal

[tarnished silver, like his skin]

except it always shone, even in pitch black dark.

onyx stones smoothed out its sharpness

and he was cloaked in the nothing

that could only be the penumbra of shadows.

and yet his eyes, I think about most.

[they are hardest to remember]

for they were like black beetles in his thin face

which were somehow dark enough

to steal all the light that shone towards them

yet give off the tiniest glint in return.

death came to me in a dream, once.

but he didn’t come for me, that time.

[not for anyone, in fact]

instead, he came to assist me

in my forgotten dream situation

where the only way to fix the broken pieces

was to slide back to before they broke at all.

death shared his secret with me

[and wouldn’t he have many of those?]

he showed that he was not only the one

who took those who passed their time

but also the one who showed them the path

into the new light of life and rebirth.

I asked him politely for his help

[his smile was kind yet weary]

and as he spun his hands, his skin shone gold.

in his hair grew dainty yellow flowers

and when he held open his cloak of shadows

I embraced him as an old friend.

life came to me in a dream, once.

Ivy Sanzone is a sophomore Creative Writing major at the University of Arkansas at Monticello. She considers herself an artist and a writer in her free time, and enjoys posting some of her sketches to her blog. Her other pastime is playing video games until two o’clock in the morning (the perfect poetry writing time).