Shaking the fantasies off her
hair, o’ beautiful child of darkness,
The night croons and moans to the
rhythm of day’s divinity,
Naked children running like mad
hyenas to their infancy
underneath their mother beside
Aphrodite’s jeweled
silver orb that turns into a
woman’s face. Her kiss
is a vampire beam, the moon
shines a path down
to her blonde south while she
howls to the little
imps with a saint’s fury in
her eyes, dancing
in the dark; she bleeds rainbow
syrup
from her bra, chewing dirty pearls,
drinking cheap wine in the
forest
of leather. Flee from the vamp
while she’s killing the dance,
an ancient child of past
century, a tramp
of the moon.
- a.i.a.
