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Beau Lucifer

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The leather seat groaned under Beau Lucifer
shifting weight as he tapped nicotine-stained
fingers against the armrest of his throne.
A salvaged airline captain’s chair bolted to a dais
of crushed Cadillacs. Carrying the scent of
the taxidermied dead in mason jars, Beau
a master piece of sculpted grace reflecting
the glorious light of his creator. Now a face
of corruption in duality. A Highwayman
of sins sitting on his ass on a foundation
of rust. A master of everything, but corroding
in lies. This architect built with discarded
fingers and eyes of denizens. The hollowed-out
soldiers in shadows and borrowed teeth, in his
realm of monsters and rituals of deceit.

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