Deeper the Wound
Deeper the wound than the reach of my thrust,
like a stake piercing your heart. From the dust,
a chain inscribes a pentagram around
your staggered ankles; one heave, and you are bound.
The pulleys of heaven groan, but they hold
as you struggle, weakened, weary, cold,
hauled up in an inverted crucifix,
just as you had me, from the ceiling’s reach.
Around the cavern, the shadows bristle,
a malevolent thirst, a dark missal.
The last of hope from your open wound bleeds.
That, and my mimicked keen: the call to feed.
Life transmutes in a savage alchemy.
So darkness betrays you, who betrayed me.