Morte di dieci... ‘Death of ten’

The centrepiece comprised of dolls, of brides

Gracing the cake of a sinister size

Nine faces iced, lied looks of surprise

The moment of pose, each one of them died

Foetal figures, baring skeletal features

Fracture the structures of once feminine creatures

Sentimental ornaments, decorations forlorn

Adorning the cake, he baked before mourn

Adversities, he married with scorn

Anniversaries, to repent for his wrong

Annulling the cull, awaiting the bait

Upon wedding song, sealing their fate

The ninth knife sliced through the loaf

No witness to confess his new found oath

Nine candles he lit for every wife

One woman each year, each losing their life

Staring at every head, he made dead

He then blew out the flames of shame, he once wed

Alas the feel of fire and steel

Invoked the moments of memories real

Would an even ten mean the end?

An excuse he wished for, but he could not pretend

Thus an ‘X’ shall mark her by numeral

Signified, should she die, feigning her funeral

Italy, Rome, he prepared for next year

But for now he embellished his wish with a beer

And a slice of cake was eaten,

Devouring each and every victim

Would he finally stop at ten?

Moreover a reason he could not defend

Ten wives alive, would be hard to survive

So ‘Her’ end would be special, should that time arrive

On the thought of that note, he then went to bed

Dreamt of his future wife, and her dead

And how her head, would be placed on the cake

Beside the nine, he now had to remake

Numero dieci...
Will be still, at the wake
 
Carey Milton ©