Love Poetry: The Vampire

by Malik Solomon
(51 Middle Hwy, East Hampton, NY, 19937 USA)

'I kiss your throat like a treacherous vampire,

In fact I am a ravenous jaguar, with the same thirst,

A thirst for the trail of your redemption from the

Mountaineous cold, of my befuddling ancestry, bowed...

Of my?I raise my forehead to disclose my Asian features,

It itches me but I do it anyway, as your neck unfurls to me,

Unfurls to you unfurling to me unfurling.

I look over the volumes of Picaro fiction, of Parceval, of Parceval,

The love in my throat, the horsedrawn ghost in a suit of armor.

The bed of roses, and your neck in the thrown of your head,

Your marvelous pink and white cheeks, your marvelous head.

You are Francis Bacon?s garden, you are Monsierre Montaine?s garden.

You are everything to me, which is bleeding and animal,

You are the ghost of the roses on the bed and the plain of thorns,

You are the broken mirror of the rains, in the southern India of rains,

You are the illustrious chalice in the Victorian ceiling wainscotts.

I am at the verge of you like the whale or the elephant or the kitten,

I am at the very initial precepts of you like the pearl or the snail,

Like the Rubbyiat, I am dripping with dew like the distant sun,

I am the fruits or the jewels in the sand of time hanging off of

You, I love the scent on your neck with your head like the calyx

Curling up as the pink dawn spread its brittle wings.'

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