Vamp
Seducing spring-starved
to a pagan breakfast
of fertile eggs-over-easy
and fresh-squeezed green,
she pants to repopulate,
as tender winter-lips
are somewhat bruised
in a stampede of kisses.
Coaxed to a feverish pitch
of rose hips and nakedness,
only to her early exit, hobbling
out, a one-legged mother,
cane raised in thunder-pout,
conjuring fickle winds
without orgasm, and spits,
sycophant, in your eye.
Tess Kincaid
April 2011
Posted over on her site Willow Manor
Listed as #4 over on Magpie Tales 62
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