I Slept With the Devil
Published in In the Savage Gap
Devil don't lie
if He ain't got a mind to. Fine flesh
He knoweth and the store within.
When He stands on the edge
of the high and the broken hill and the sun's smoke
sparks His hooves and the big flies hunger
at the root of His tail,
I am lying abed with the window open,
wishing I were dreaming to bring Him in,
for fine He is, with curved muscle like bone,
I polish His sinew by tongue and by lips and, in return,
He drives out the aching of my breasts, bruised
fullness, sweet at the nipple, with ivory claws
a-tapping together, and lizard palm,
dry as any desert.
There is a belt of blood stung
through the sheets, my loins are slashed,
I'm smiling, smiling. Come again
in winter, I'll wrap your feet in my hair,
let no one mourn for me, I have no pain,
let no one prevent me with prayer.