at "The Zombie Ball"

It's through the black, black garden beds
 lined with Kahla lilies, California poppies,
blood-bright roses and guardian thorns
 up the creaky steps of
 The Grand TajMal
 
where chivalric if twisted misfits
brood
 in melancholic thralls,
 follow fashion,
 claw at first fire
 beyond guarded walls,
 or, more experienced,
 take the consolations of insanity...
 
At the piano:
 a dapper hypo-manic wolf
 refines his symphonic spears,
 as theatric mad-manes
 lurch, spin and sway to the chords...
 and vampires press Staunton pieces
 into cold marble boards
 
The vixens are lovely:
 the Mojitos are mint,
 and some linger on
 after everyone's went