but I am no vampire, no unearthly being.
Mother abandoned me in an asylum
said not to return until the demons went away.
They remained, clutching my heart,
squeezing so tight until my blood ran cold.
The asylum donated me to science,
who in turn donated me to a bookbinder.
He was in dire need of parchment;
my skin was favorable with dabs of sumac.
I have been touched by the gifted hands
of scientists, scholars, and curators.
The words that reside inside me
are not my own and never will be,
for what my story holds
is much too horrifying to comprehend.
the Bubonic Plague
swept its way across Europe.
The island became a quarantine
for the unwanted,
their bodies discarded
as if they were nothing more
than insects and dust.
an asylum was erected;
heads were drilled with holes
by a doctor who thought
he was an angel
offering salvation and peace.
He thought he could fly to Heaven
Sandy Benitez writes dark fantasy poems and fiction. Her first novel, a gothic fantasy, The Rosegiver, was published in February 2016. She enjoys horror movies & books, wandering through old cemeteries, and perusing antique stores.