The rose, the skull.
I wake face in the mug of a hanging dawn
last night’s dream today,
I recall from the haze
I wake like death and I am decay,
I feed the raven, bleach the lace, wilt the rose, crack the skull.
I am the woman you cast out for loving the darkness more than I could love your numbing grasp.
Your protector’s clasp, cuffed me to you,
Then moon by moon
I grew so wane that my skinny wrist slipped right through.
You forget this:
that when we met I was already wed;
to rich deep earth.
On the night of consummation
I crawled down the aisle through the earth clad in ash,
and to that most sinfully fecund love I shed my first blood.
and to that love I owe my first birth.
Of song and feet pounding down on soil,
the creatrix vibrations that wake the serpents coil
Sorry now that
You caught my eye
And on sweet ether I caught my breath, ripped open my chest and let out a cry,
This ecstatic life of one who lives wild.
It called you to me.
In the reckless savagery of passion,
and pain.
The lips bit bleeding with something that slips between enchantment and rage.
You came to tame.
In your arms I was nothing more than a willing hostage,
you could not allow me to be death as much as I am life.
It was all just a game though
seeing as
we both know
I would never ask for your permission.
Sionnachaí 