Painted lady

Black shallow eyes stare into the night

surrounded by the demons recoiling from sound

the sound of laughter sung in the light

hollow cheeks and a painted mouth

witness Día de los Muertos witches dance in the shadows

twirling to the sound of jazz from the trombone playing loud

and swaying from guitar strings strum in the crowd

holding their familiar close to their hearts

amber eyes and sharp claws

whiskers that tickle across bare skin

pointed teeth to rip out your throat in one spin

beautiful painted lady alive for just one night

before passing back over to the other side