Rose Quartz Coffin

a poem by Ghia Vitale

In my rose quartz coffin, embalmed, supine,

I succumb to the rigor mortis rite.

Cheers to yet another glass of ghost wine.

The sterling stars in your eyes realign,

growing so incandescent, they’ll soon ignite

in my rose quartz coffin, embalmed, supine.

Upon those ripe pentagrams, spirits dine

and wax intoxicated by moonlight.

Cheers to yet another glass of ghost wine.

Like Babylon’s long-lost corpse-concubine,

with all the ouija love letters I write

in my rose quartz coffin, embalmed, supine.

Beneath an onyx tombstone, I resign

my pearly skeleton of opalite.

Cheers to yet another glass of ghost wine.

Ether-parameters our hearts define

could transform with just an orb of insight.

In my rose quartz coffin, embalmed, supine—

cheers to yet another glass of ghost wine.

Ghia Vitale (she/they) is a writer, poet, and witch from Long Island. She is the senior editor at Quail Bell Magazine. Her passions include body positivity, plus size fashion, and horror. For more updates, follow her on Facebook (facebook.com/ghiavitale), Instagram (@angel0fthe0dd), Twitter (@GhiaWasHere), and Tumblr (@angeloftheodd)