.
A lash on my naked back
heralds Hecate's entry
into my writing room.
Her wet writhing arms
clasp my scarred chest
while her teeth tear
through my neck, the muscle
wound around her tongue.
Slowly, she retracts
black talons and teeth
as molten blood pools
at her gargoyle feet.
She retreats, satiated,
and I lie hypnotized
while my drained blood
forms words on the floor.
A. Popp
.