CRAIG KIRCHNER
Photography ©2004 Fred Ellis

Succubus, Muse

I have not written -
as one banished,
amnesiaed
by the promise
of a letter to a
one-night stand -
a dull insomniac,
numb to words,
writhing
in unconscious lust.

Zigzagged,
diverted
from lover to
mystery mistress -
a perverted aberration -
wandering, falling
from your fever
in some frozen
solitary trance.

Wanting now
that sinful sweat
to form on my lips,
soak the words -
the dawn to capture
my loins,
thrust me back
to the flushed dead
of night woods
by the bonfire.

I succumb to
your pungent imagery.
Your wetness.
Your nonchalance.
Your flesh
as mouth
and tutor.