Lyric Steel

From journeyman to master in his craft,

His artful words subsume me with their touch,

Entwining limbs and corps with phantom bonds,

Unsheathing new the blade sharpened with lust.

Can yet I remain separate and whole

Should he reach out and forage me for food

To nourish his heart rent from carnal woe

And supply hollow coffers with fresh tools?

With flaming torch bled of my passion bold,

Arraigning me thus guilty in desire,

He forges restraints I content embrace

As kidskin gloves caress and I expire.

For from his hand that I will never feel

My cheek reclines against the lyric steel.



Across her cheeks time sketches valleys deep.

While she sheds crimson mantles lose from wear.

Off crowded saplings suddenly she snares

A silver-sheen’d adornment. Wrapped she creeps

In silence heeding sister wolves who guide

And guard her – howling warnings in the woods.

Her unseen foe attacks, drawing her blood;

The drops baptize her as death’s noble bride.

Look now her hair garlanded in wreaths of snow

Fans out sailing her ‘cross the River Styx.

With feather’d sandals she treads hellhound’s trail

To reach the River Lethe. All she knows

Is soon forgotten, drunk in her eclipse.

Fate pens her renaissance, a virgin tale.