A little Fantasy-Horror . . . not my ususal thing...experimenting a bit...

The Feeding

Whisper. Whisper,
breezes past, palms her cheek.
       “my sugarplum”
and blows on pixie bangs . . .
Whose hand skims her brow,
and kisses pouting lips, light as a wish?
     Who chills the heavens
sliding down bare arms,
squeezing tender flesh,
loving the delicacy . . . and away.

Into the clear
ringing round ,
she searches, curious,
where the harbinger of this voice,
where the lips of this deliverer?
Only air, deserted street,
cat, who stirs, on old veranda . . .
Nothing perceptible
save the sigh once exchanged.
    Her mouth curls sadly,
    . . the kiss was so sweet,
    cotton-candy honey.

Setting low the afternoon sun,
skipping rope down to the gate,
back to cat, now sandman’s captive,
she sings to the purring of the wind,
wiggles to the hum of the nursery.
    whimsy rhymes,
    whimsy round,
    whisper . . .
    Cinderella kissed a fella.

Musing upon his shoulder,
      it floats on a hush
whisper,
fondles his ear, sings him her rhyme,
      drifting in and out of perception
a soft caress, whisper taunts
          “my sugarplum”
      obscured only. . . never absent
The damp grass groans
with the crush of his step,
and the startled cat hisses,
“Who owns an augur’s tongue,
licking this hound’s loins so cunningly?
What beast prepares a blind alley
and lays out this vile feast?”

Setting low the afternoon sun,
smiling to the hum of the nursery,
he laughs at the cowardly cat,
and rests a hand on the quavering gate.
    Wicked rhymes
    Wicked round
    Screaming. . .
    Her fella comes for sugarplum.


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