by Regina
In the late August hot~coals afternoon, the
gladiolus stir gently in the humid breeze, as
children raucously walk home,
an augury atmosphere, as hushed songbirds
retire to sheltering foliage,
a quieting of life's very pulse, then, in a
rushing roar eventide's hunters in great
numbers fly from their cavern in high~pitched
squeaks,
my daybed is cold marble, my skin in pallor,
and as I awaken, my burgundy dusty gown
rustles,
my long nails polished black, my lips a
dark purple,
I arise with the paling moon, orb of lovers, yes, but also of us dead,
my heart beats bold, then quickens,
as my vampire prince emerges from the
cooling mist,
will we have our crimson elixir in silver
goblets before dawn breaks so bright?
our night journey begins with his kiss
of passion.