They call it dancing the devil’s backbone
Lead rain pounds an irregular tattoo
Droplets on the spider-cracked windshield
Harmonize the heart’s throbbing rhythms
The night slips by the road in writhing shadows
Distorted by a shattered headlight’s wavering beam
His hands are slick upon the wheel
Icy rain, burning sweat
Eyes stinging with November’s wind
Sight blurring with buried tears
This was her last dance
The tires scream and howl
Desperate for traction
On the battered, pitted pavement
Rain has turned to sleet, sleet to ice
Still the needle climbs
She liked to dance
Feet raw from beating upon the gravel driveway
She was always at home on the spine’s razor edge
She knew its twists and traps all too well
For it always claims its own, eventually
Impact seemingly softened by speed
The vehicle folds around him
Wilting petals of searing flame and shrieking metal
But he knows no fear
He meant this dance to be his last
This was her last dance
He struggles from his fiery cocoon
A scabbed, flightless angel
Glass covers the ground like shattered wings
The night tastes of frozen love
Stings like guilt
The starved trees begin to weep snow
In the whiteness of his fading he sees her
Naked, beckoning
Hidden silver glints behind the lattice of her scars
Standing, he leaves himself behind
And joins her in the dance
They call it dancing the devil’s backbone
R. J. Walker Miller is a writer of SF, horror, fantasy, and poetry. His work has appeared in magazines such as Ray Gun Revival, NiteBlade, Mindflights, Fear and Trembling, and AlienSkin, amoung others. When not working or writing, R. J. enjoys biking, listening to jazz, and reading SF and mystery.
7 Responses to “DANCING THE DEVIL’S BACKBONE • by R. J. Walker Miller”
Comments
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July 13th, 2009 at 8:07 am
Nightmarish!
July 13th, 2009 at 8:22 am
Nothing like a nice suicide poem to start the day.
July 13th, 2009 at 8:46 am
I loved this! Dramatic, specific, it engages me from the beginning and never lets go.
July 13th, 2009 at 11:35 am
A gripping piece that keeps you reading to the end.
July 13th, 2009 at 11:51 am
Very riveting, absorbing, felt poem. Both images and sounds become real and hold the reader. The emotion is genuinely gripping and lived by the reader. It’s written so that it’s very believable. This reader calls out – HOLD ON – DON’T SUICIDE.
I would like to know the origin of the phrase “Dancing the devil’s backbone” and also what is meant by “Still the needle climbs.”
July 15th, 2009 at 12:00 pm
Thanks to all who commented!
Roberta, thank you for your interest. It turns out that the origin of the phrase “Dancing the Devil’s Backbone” is the same as that of the entire poem. The work was inspired by the name of a very real country road here in Northern IL. I was driving home on a very foggy day last fall and happened across this secluded road. It was evening, and the fog made everything seem very surreal. I had the idea of spirits (no doubt inspired by swirling fog) luring travelers to their deaths down this road – a modern, urban variation of the sirens, if you will. I thought that the spirits might take the form of loved ones who had previously been lured. The idea of this final trip being a kind of dance came at the same time.
As for the meaning of “Still the needle climbs,” this was simply a poetic reference to the vehicle’s speedometer…though I wish there was a profound interpretation.
Once again, thank you all for reading.
Cordially,
R. J.
July 17th, 2009 at 8:16 am
R.J. – Thank you for answering my questions, although the derivation of the phrase “DtheDB” is still not clear to me, I realize it has something to do with being able to distinguish lures from leads.
You have settled the needle question. It wasn’t that I was searching for deep meaning. I don’t have an automobile and haven’t driven for years so the thought of the speedometer needle never entered my mind and I didn’t know what to make of the phrase.
Thanks again.