'Fairytales are in my head and in my head they start
to tell you bout the deepest thoughts that live inside my heart.'
- Alice Deejay

Sunday, December 8, 2013

A Lurid Lullaby

'Let us dance into the night - the stars will keep us cold.'  
Rebecca & Fiona 

Christine Kincer 2009

upon a midnight moon
her hand pale like it full
graced its grip about a goblet                                  
filled with drink
to a crimson hue

in the air alive with bite under the luminous light
she stepped
the drink splashing & staining her fingers with a slow sleek slide

misbehaving spoiled treat                        

poured from a bottle kept hidden & fussed over by privileged protection
the drink displayed quite the verve and oh the nerve
spilling bits of worth
down a hand
such as hers                                                    

an auburn fire hosting a chilled manner - nighttime's sovereign thief was she - her terror upon this full moon overlooking  


her movement on the terrace -her hem sailing across limestone pattered with shadows
from branches twisting & telling the tale                        
tall and still growing
about her myth

a huntress - potence her prestige

she prowled about the sleeping after stalking their bad dreams - those powerful nightmares oozing - she listened for their sounds and hunted them down before piercing then draining the charm from slumber's plights - leaving her victims upon waking without closure and vague memories of peaceful torture

legend speaks                        
it was with much ease
broke into dreamscapes
where sleepers'
ignored fixations become a rich elixir when given attention  
her touch inviting
the shyest secret
to melt through to
the sensuous containers she carried
filling them full
before shadowing an exit over her sleeping prey with
once suppressed desires steaming
the ampules
she carried                                                      

quiets do well in the dark

she found them - collected them - covered them tight
harvested bottled distilled
all of these quiets lifted before fulfilled
developed and swelled
into this drink
she held
her own little secret

behaved well until now


and it was on this night like
the ocean upon every full moon
her appetite
intense & deep                                                              
need for the cruet of secrets kept hidden from view
her palate craved the aged cocktail made to sustain her troubled flame

fire over ice upon midnight

amused nightmares' dignitary
dangerous drops down - viscid and balmy
electric unexpected
snaps across the tongue
pleasant to cold - warmth to stone
from the emotionally charged places
she stole
and snatched away so artfully
leaving voids where they ought not be

the drink exchanged grasps left to right under the full moon sky on this winter night
seamless snow
became her pose while she watched the drink's splashes lengthen and grow - slipping between fingers like satin enveloping

at once her hand jerked back before she licked it like a cat

behavior unforgiven
in a twist down her palm & wrist
still clear motionless
the drink appeared upon
then with eyes closed 
she brought the goblet
to her nose 
but the drink's essence did not release
about the chalice the tips of her fingers twitched then
grew to blue
while on the drink's surface
a layer of ice froze

is not revenge best served cold?      

the empress of nightmares eyes sharpened to attack
and at once the drink's surface cracked                                    
a proper strike is hard & fast
no time for niceties
her prick
broke barriers easily
tout de suite
a vapor released

smile to her lips- sensual sip - squint before spit

body catches up with instinct

the drink is alive

but not well

questions & doubts                                                     
cooled the chilly air
after the poisoned empress of nightmares
her wings descend to permanent sleep                         


oh please take care for it does appear
shadows mystere are everywhere
nocturnal dreams
ready to take while they watch & wait
for never safe
are entombed passions running rampant
our bedtime reveries

Christine Kincer

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