Midnight Love


A bird of prey––swift, sure, fleet of foot
She intrudes on the mystic art

Bound in ravenous black, widow’s caul framing
Onyx chips bloodied, twinned and lambent
She steals into shadow

Terrified for a love scorned, a heart riven, still
She ascends to Moon’s dank roost

Face a plumed map of clashing laminae
Entombed in nail-biting lust, gelatinous and thawing
She hungers for that tropic balm

Where, atop lovers’ mount, at night’s end
She takes a bow, triumphant in sanity’s flight.

Copyright © 2013 Elliot Silverberg. All rights reserved.

About Elliot Silverberg

I am an essayist, freelance journalist, poet, and screenwriter; an avid reader with a fascination for historical fiction, sci-fi, and fantasy fiction; a student of the Ancient Greek and Roman cultures; and a tennis enthusiast.

Posted on August 3, 2013, in Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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