Place a thin, white piece of flesh on my tongue.

I am lapsed, languid, hell-bent on learning

the curves of Persephone’s willing plunge,

arched heel to stained lips parted by yearning,

From Autumn’s strong hands through the fairest curls;

tumbling, spilling over bare shoulders; loose--

loose at last! Frost-bared shivering unfurls;

no reprimand of wildness or truce,

To bare feet on evening’s grass, then marbled

palace filled with darkest pleasures, dripping

rain-water and yew on silk sheets; startled

the dense quiet, unrobed secrets slipping;

To kneel, to pry, caress and softly pray;

silver dagger, skim to part the flushed rind

ripely swollen, aril on their display;

submerge the albedo and feast on Time;

Crimson flowing, blood and wine might allay,

but this drink--drunk without rest, bodies twined,

Lecter-esque metaphysical ballet, 

lashes, whips, and handkerchiefs used to bind;

Swill, swallow, and soaking; sweetly sung screams;

and here Night warbled forever without

the Daylight’s sternness scolding, spurning dreams; 

no fruit neglected, gardener devout,

Tended to as she had tended flowers,

more Tender than her mother’s jealous Greed;

nurtured, cradled, and let roam free her hours;

talked with, debated, and gave her such deed

To rule beside and above when chosen;

to sit beside, never behind; her throne

made of evergreen sighs– Ambrosian,

where clear she speaks, her voice a jeweled, blue tone:

“Come hither, Darkling, dearest to my heart.

You learn so well and learn so quick, yet still

have more to learn tonight, my sweet larkspur--”

She said. No other would dare brave such will,

Queen of Hell, with sure plans to tear apart;

Tyrant, goddess, and gentle destroyer:

“Undress. Put that mouth to good use, you tart,”

and brought me down on my knees before her.