This is what Erwin liked to do:
kept snakes coiled peacefully on his bed
and had black crows in his back yard
that he said were nightingales.
Loved small black flies but said his spiders
loved them more
and fed ’em to them anyways.
Owned three black dogs
missing respectivelly an eye a leg a tail
and in the house crawled naked snails
drawing patterns on black floors and walls
leaving behind them silver trails.
His bed was made of ancient bones
unearthed in earthquakes
and on his shelves were strange jars
-eyes of newts, a vampire tooth,
a witch’s brew and dragon scales.
He only listened to punk rock
and dressed in leather jackets
and smoked unfiltered caporals
a day about three packets.
And this is who dear Erwin was.
“I live with my nightmares”, he once said
“so I won’t be mastered by my fears”.
It was the caporals that got him in the end;
all I can give him now is some words
and now and then some tears.