Friday, April 1, 2011


The first time she would not sleep with me,

It began.

I thought, back then,

That it was just the tag on my dress--

Then I thought,

I am cracking, alive, down the center.

The second time she would not sleep with me,

There was blood.

The sheets had to be burned,

And the flames rose crimson--

The smoke a choking jet.

It doesn't matter.

I can no longer lie down--

My back has birthed devil-black wings,

Bigger than I am.

If I wrap them around myself,

I can close my eyes for a blessed moment;

Though when I unfold them again,

They are more impressive yet--

And I am less human.

The third time she would not sleep with me,

I no longer cared.

I laughed remembering how such a small thing could have appeased me--

Now, I require everything,

And when I sigh at the idea of appetite unleashed,

It sounds

Like fluttering.


photo: Amy Lee


hedgewitch said...

Whoa. What a metamorphosis, trial by and through fire...took my breath away there for a moment. And the wings are so big, so black, swallowing everything, requiring everything...but still delicate as a sigh, fluttering...wonderful contrasts, excellent writing.

Sioux said...

I love the build up, first time...second time... then you let up a bit, and then continued.

The lines aboout the sheet having to be burned. Gorgeous!

Amy Lee...Is that the singer Amy Lee?

Brian Miller said...

woohooo! hot! i like it hot! i went hot tonight too...cracking alive, down the middle...this was wonderful shay, hit just my its off to bed and have a good night...

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh, the wings, the wings! Wrapping them around herself and then, at the end , "appetite unleashed, it sounds like fluttering." Brilliant writing indeed. Fantastic!

Lynn said...

I can see it all - just wow.

Ami Mattison said...

The transformation of those wings! It all happens so fast, and I gasped, more than sighed, at the ending. You capture perfectly how love denied indeed turns to an unappeasable appetite and transforms us into dark, greedy things. I say fly away, my friend. There's better feeding elsewhere!

ellen abbott said...

the wrath of a woman scorned.

Patricia Caspers said...

the "tag on my dress" is perfect, and then . . . so creepy. Those wings are fabulous as well.

Anonymous said...

Five burning beds for Fireblossom. Absence -- and denial -- makes the heart grow under into realms of even wilder thunder. Appetite is just the first door, and it can't be opened for all the feasting. Now, what's beyond the door marked "fluttering"? Black wings surely will find out ... Brendan

Rene/ Not The Rockefellers said...

Denied three times...


Lisa said...

God, this is GOOD!


Helen said...

.. we should all have wings

Mama Zen said...

Just magnificent. No other word will do.

gabrielle said...

Who among us has not known the futility of those dark damp wings?