You summon me, the Night,
in my demesne to pierce my heart of darkness!
In prism-dewdrop time, you warm me,
tenderly, with phosphorescent blues
with sirens from the sea; you radiate
melodies in a conspiratorial game and
I am your prey like stupid Mercutio –
you make worms’ meat of me.
You kiss me like Judas with lustrous lips
while Nyx looks on paralyzed by your
renewed charms, by your silken hair,
and your radiant eyes. Oh, how I hate you!
What a fool I am! I am like black vinyl
skipping and spinning the same track
under your nail, but your scratch
feels so good on my back as I reenter
Your chariot to feel its red velvet seats
bespattered with blackberry mucilage
from prior nocturnal retreats. The roses
you spread at my feet are laden with thorns,
a medieval trap pressed against my knees.
I am a caged beast, a mere pet in your delicate hands,
hands that raise the dawn like Lazarus whilst
I briefly rest inside your soporific snare.