Conquest Poem by Mark R Slaughter

I’ve come to play upon your pulse:
I have my fangs…

To ease a swollen line I spy
Upon your neck –
And what a satin slenderness! –
Venus surely would agree –
O that she would acquiesce
Her vintage unto me!

But now to tear your blouse asunder;
Swell your silken breast before
The thund’rous leer of demon’s eye!

Sultry is her struggling dance –
Erotic turns of torsion
Show the torture of a bite!
Come! Fling your soul aloft for me!

Wailing tones of aerial pitch upon
The perforation draw delight of pain and fear –
Ah! to see them flame upon a maiden’s form!

Be not forlorn my little thing;
I sipped your lacy life away so
You could in my arm display
A pleasing death,
Relieve yourself of humankind –
A role anew to take, to find –

As lips of blue awake your mouth –
And there: the incandescent white
Refulgent in the light of timid candles
Hiding in the room.

But now we fly before the morn –
We must ourselves entomb!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010



























































































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