at 'The Zombie Ball'

It's through the black, black garden beds
 lined with Kahla lilies, California poppies,
blood-bright roses and sentinel 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 Mohitos are mint,
 and some linger on
 after everyone's went