Sandy DeLuca

- Now That Saturn Has Returned -

I've plucked the thorn from my side;
it's been there since I brought
you to the crossroads;
you stepped out of my jeep;
tossed a penny into
Hectate's cauldron;
Excalibur's hilt gleaming and your
shirt caked with the blood of
a biker you'd met over beer and
dope the previous dawn

Sometimes I dream about you,
hunched against the French doors
in my parlor,
eatting my icecream,
gazing at the neighbors
on the other side of the glass;
you loved their fangs
dripping with semen;
how their asses shook
when they polished the coffins

You took the oldest dancing;
she cut off your pinkie
when you tried to steal her grass;
you washed down the pain with Jack Daniels,
the next morning we peeled the flesh
and hung the bones next to the door jam

I heard you died down in Brooklyn;
they found your car in an alley,
pieces of you on the seat and floor;
my rosary still hung from the mirror;
my cauldron was inside the trunk

I'll bury this flower prick in a
shoebox with your razor
and the photo of you
and John Lennon;
then I'll call the Voodoo woman,
cry as she lights the fire,
wiggles her fingers
and we'll watch your ghost fly away

- In a Future New York -

Glia and Tandra huddled beneath tracks
where trains once carried a lost
civilization to jobs in high rises
and dinners in glass buildings;
wine poured in crystal glasses,
and violinists played
love songs to women with platinum-dyed hair
and men in designer suits

Posters hung in crumbled brownstones,
on the walls of opera houses,
and Broadway theaters
told stories of women
in sequined gowns and agile ballerinas-

The city died when
green-scaled creatures
with yellow eyes
released their seed into the bellies of waif girls
and lonely gypsies who roamed the night bars
in search of pleasure

Gilia and Tandra- mutant spawns-
hugged each other,
listened to the earth pound
as a soldier marched above;
seeking their flesh in exchange
for a piece of meat,
or a soft bed

Misshapen fingers tapped
on concrete and their young bodies shook;
but they did not stir until the footsteps ceased;
until the thunder moon glowed
in the mid July sky

Then they climbed the stairs
of the old subway station;
talons trailed behind them,
glowing silver in flashing neon;
they walked to the river and
dove into cool wet slime,
gazed up into remnants of old skyscrapers
and a cathedral that once touched the
stars on balmy summer nights

They sang a hymn found in an old brick
structure at the edge of the city,
where paintings of men with unmarred flesh hung;
where words of freedom were painted on domed ceilings;
water formed crystal bubbles on
on their tongues and
they gazed at a tattered flag
fluttering in the humid breeze--
shredded with time,
gone with the liberty of seven centuries past



Sandy has been involved in the small press for the past six years. Her poetry, fiction and art have been published and will be published in numerous publications such as: Space and Time, The October Rush Anthology, The Mirrors in Flames Anthology, Eotu Magazine, The Edge Tales of Suspense, Sam's Dot Publishing and The Wicked Verse Anthology. Her poetry chapbook Burial Plot in Sagittarius was a finalist for the Bram Stoker for poetry award in the year 2001. Her poetry and short story collection Paths of Destiny was released by Double Dragon Publishing late last year. Her novel Settling in Nazareth was also published in late 2003. She has also just completed a second novel and is now taking some time out to write some new poems and to outline a third novel, not to mention spending her spare time painting.