Angel

Out of the dark forest, first light not
Even a scratch in the gloom, she
Glides over the dew and the mist,
Black cloak wrapped tightly around
Her, hood up, bare feet soundless
Over the ground she covers fast
As the absent lightning.

She reaches the camp, dawn still
Tardy, slips through the cordon of
Careless tired guards, invisible, a
Wraith of breath, slides into the
Emperor’s tent. Nothing more than
A whisper as she pushes her cloak
Aside, hood still over her head.

And as she shows him she wears
Nothing else, the emperor moans
And writhes until she sinks over him,
Astride him, and sinks her teeth and
Claws into his corrupt discoloured
Flesh. Blood was never so sweet as
That she takes from devils.

R 04/03/2025 14:15 Norwich Library