"Succubus Lore (Poem)" by Amy ´Insom´ Downum

            Sickly shadows scrape their way o’er

      Ghastly branches of forest Lore.

The moonlight, a glowing galleon, rides

Upon a sea of stars.

Whistles pierce silence thick,

Rabbits hide for owls are quick

‘Pon silent wings of death.

Shadow Lore is sung,

By crickets on their violins,

And wolves accompanying in bass through the trees.

Through the night she steps,

Silken slip and rustle or a satin gown follows.

Quiet. Silent.

Moonshine hair, golden sheen, ripples down

To shoulder-length.

A mystery revealed,

As the gown is peeled

By his fingers from her skin.

Dare he tease a kiss?

Denied once. Twice.

A third, and he sighs and caresses her thighs,

Waiting for his moment.

Fingers trace patterns of feathered lace

O’er his chest, waiting for her moment…

Bodies hot, a press of impassioned flesh.

Hungry on her part.

So soft a kiss, dismissing this

Notion wild of his.

Comes true when slowly the moon fades

From skin of alabaster purity.

Now scales of demoness

And cool, clawed fingers choke him

With detached finesse.

A gurgle, a gag.

A limp jaw that sags.

The succubus rides again.