Love Letter To Lilith

No, really... you can be on top
...I like it.
You can scratch me with your talons
while I puncture your pale moon flesh
with my fangs.
I'm an apprentice incubus
and I've got a lot to learn.
Slip into my bed at night
with your legions of screech-owls
and wind your thighs tight around me.

Let's run away and live in the desert
with the lions.
I'm glad you're untamable...
Tell me NO...
scream and rage and stir up a hurricane.
I want to see your fierce desire,
your seismic lust that eats through stone.

You kicked Adam in the balls
and thumbed your nose at the Big G himself,
and that turns me on!
While other men keep you locked in the cellar,
or at the back of the underwear drawer,
I want us to get wild with all the lights on bright,
and I don't care if the sheets get bloody.

Let's fuck in the pews and pulpits
and fornicate in the temple.
They'll pull back the curtain
on the holy of holies
and there we'll be, naked and howling
and frothing at the mouth,
and riding each other like wild mares and stallions.
And then we'll both dine on your
barren-womb demon-fetus for dinner.

I'll romp in the mud with you
and wail at the moon,
tumble, snarl and bite
like the mating tussle of wolves.
I'll let you swallow me and drain me,
but I won't be your missionary.

Am I the first one to celebrate
your defiance?
What will you do with a man like me
who runs with your pack at midnight,
matching your pace and sharing the kill,
who flies abreast with you
through the blackest storm-clouds,
and who says YES to everything that you are.

David Aronson
September 2006