Guest Poet Syyd Raven
Succubus
Sluice,
bitter, one kiss,
my lips to your eyes
withered and soft wet cocoons of
distance
dancing,
away from everything you ever knew
and I loved you in my own way,
I really loved you
Lily,
dying in my hands
manipulated and drunk
in your enormous shadow
whispering smeared white gifts of love
in the cool black bed of your man
the enormous wax love
hangs limply beneath a dirty
sordid goddess
resurrected
in the confession
of your deadliest hour
December, 2001
Syyd Raven's questions:
Question 1 Does the reader experience a sense of
subterfuge between the title and content?
Question 2 Is it clear there is a feeling of an
ending of a relationship by word play?
Question 3 Would the poem have more meaning were it
titled "Confessore"?
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