To Chris M., who loves horror movies -
the first time I saw him he was playing as axe, quite literally,
he had strung an axe with guitar strings and plugged it in.
It was quite a spectacle.

A Letter to My Lord and Husband, Count Dracula

Infinity means nothing to a man like you.
All your wealth and a lineage of infamy,
your tailored suit is out of date by centuries.
You've a certain gravity that makes young girls swoon.
All the mirrors are turned backwards in our bedroom.
Sleeping in a narrow bed I smell wood and earth -
interminable loneliness - incessant thirst.
I watched you from my dreaming quiet as a tomb
nose twitching as you smelled her fear and something more
(you've always has such specific tastes in women -
a fellow people talk about but has no friends).
Patient like a spider, I'd seen it all before,
running through a wheat field under a wide-faced moon.
Left hand against her smoothe small breast, your teeth went deep.
Yes. I know what secrets your evening coat keeps,
Only thirteen when you took me from father's farm,
but then not a soul can resist your old world charm.


Last Poem
Back to Home
Back to Projects


C. Victoria Vaughn-Perling  1989