Crypt

The princess has weird, magnetic eyes,
a crystalline pallor. She decrees that
whoever weds her must follow her to
the crypt, if she dies first. And vice versa.
One man takes the oath. At their nuptuals,
she wears a grey dress and old gold jewellery,
her hair wound in a white knot. In her embrace,
he feels a black tide draw him deathwards.
Near winter's end, she expels her last breath.
The prince cannot but honour his pact.
In the vault, he has this much left of life:
four loaves and bottles of wine, four candles.
Doubly aware of each new breath, he stares
at flickering walls: a sea of salt-damp
peaks and falls. From a crack in stone, a serpent
glides towards the body on white velvet.
Three times, he slashes that rippling line!
As if in answer, a second snake appears
with green leaves in her mouth, and lays them over
the wounds. Her partner is whole again;
they re-enter stone. The prince covers
his wife's nostrils, lips and eyes with the leaves.
She stirs, sips some wine. He shouts till keys
are brought, then pockets the leaves for future use.