vampirism I

I came to your throat not with fangs

but with the slow hunger of ultrasound,

a black screen blooming pale glyphs

of gray static resolving into a pulsing speck.

There you were: a curled ellipsis of flesh,

no larger than a grain of rice,

and smaller than the nail-paring moon.

Heart stuttering like a trapped moth in the rib-cage dark.

Your lips latched to the red dark of me.

I felt you drink my body pale

until I was the open throat,

and you the beautiful, merciless mouth.

 

pomegranate seeds II

I came to your mouth with only a fruit in open palm.

A split crown that was jagged and weeping red.

A thousand small rubies glistening,

tucked into white chambers waiting to be swallowed.

I am the orchard now,

the fruit ripening inside of a growing appetite.

It presses outward, ripping me open from within.

My vessels split cell by cell.

The seeds burrow deeper each night,

I warm their altars with a litany of breath.

There is no purging them.

The host becomes the tomb.