Melinda Poem by Antonia Nasi

She walks the streets of the French Quarter...
striking at 3am
They named her Melinda, in this...
her immortal life
She knows that you will happily fall victim beneath her crimson eyes
As the witching hour nears, she's frenzied with the thought of bloodletting

She waits by the gate of a New Orleans cemetery,
The busy streets starting to empty,
as the last notes of a Tom Wait's song fade to silence
So unsuspecting he was...taking a short-cut to his hotel
Melinda, crouched...head tilted to the night sky...fangs bared...
and he is turned with her feline precision
Another now walks among us