Moon Magic

Eve
by Gail Cleare


Devil dreams hooded
By your swastika eyepatch
You smell hot jasmine
On my breath, and a slow twitch
Adjusts your tuxedo
To dance me through the mothlight,
While you hiss the Mephisto Waltz.

A quick bite, there,
Just below the ear, and
Black juice spurts out.

How could I, these
Rosy eyes blooming
In your rhinestone charisma,
Feel the thorny click, or
Catch the scratch in that record.
With twelves turns swiftly,
And you whispering the words?