I sit waiting in the sun.
At the door,
A brow appears;
Pretentious and vain, but
Curved, fiery, warm.
It rises, I bid him in.
The sun sets;
We sink in a pool of blood,
Rippling under the palm of a hand.
A cheek appears,
A faint smile, a broken lip:
So red, an open scar.
The moon rises slowly-
Sharp, vengeful crescent-
And disappears behind
Two black of eyes, impatient, eager.
A sour touch, a bite.
A stream of crimson on my lip,
And before I can think, I fall
Back where I belong:
To the darkness.
Broad arms, a rush.
An icy chill up my spine,
But no more as I feel
A strong yellow heat
That tans the skin.
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"Give up all hope of ever seeing Heaven : I come to lead you to the other shore, into eternal darkness, ice, and fire."
(Dante, The Divine Comedy, Canto III)
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