The succubus languidly lay, half awake, half dreaming
At twilight on midsummer’s night eve,
On the edge of the wood where in the gleaming
Of pearly sunfall–nature takes her leave
And does as she will with stirring senses
Before the dark wraps its gentle cloak
Around.
Bemused, drowsily, the succubus watches as deer
Appear, feed in silence and stealth
On sweet-nectared honeysuckle, fragrant fear
Time now to prepare her evening repast
Of man who feels the ancient pull of loins and love
And dreads the spiraling
Downward.
The sleeping man alone, wife beside him,
Stirs, and turns, and throws his hand across his eyes,
Though closed they see the creature who will lead him through
The maze of stony conscience, fastened rules,
Duty frozen, where the youth of old may find with her
Freedom in slumber.
She beckons:
“Shall I, may I conjure you beside me?
Your presence real, not despising flesh
Not fearing touch of skin on skin
Tongue on tongue, eye on heart
Heart on mind, mind on mind
Your mind–a beautiful thing to taste
Completely.
“Magic lives in my fingertips: awaiting the snap
For my hands to mold the air beside me
Shaping the darkness into your image
Entwining limbs, imbuing life;
The honeyed dance resembles, mirrors death:
Our raptured, tangled fall to mortal bliss
Together.
“Should I, could I, cry out your name in sharp desire?
I may, I will, I shall, permission ungranted
Impress you here this night on night, star on star
To meet the inward flame, eternal fire.”
Invoked so sweetly, the succubus’s charm proceeds
As night falls, when freedom in darkness
Allows.
Leaves of Ash 