INCUBUS

As if, with beasts’ eyes, angels led The way, I slip back to your bed, Quiet as a hooded light, Hushed by the shadows of the night.

And then, my dark one, you shall soon Embrace the cold beams of the moon, Around a fresh grave, the chilling hiss Of serpent coiled shall be my kiss.

When morning shows his livid face Your bed shall feel my empty place, As cold as death, till fall of night.

Others take tenderness to wife: Dread gives away your youth and life To me, to be bride of fright.

Spectral white musk and the heart-stopping chill of sheared mint, fanned by caramel-touched body heat, and the diabolical sensuality of black musk, nicotiana, and sage.