The Night Lover

A howl at an unlocked door. Dead set against the grain, Some clawing at the way. One gentle knock, a tap again, More tricky threshold play. Emerging from the shadows, To darkened hall faint light, By a pale hand's outstretched candle, Well met, the lover of the night, There beyond the turning handle. Inside now by invitation, Clinging clammily on excess, Kisses soft and tender never, Dullness into softness press - Sharpness, crimson as a river, Downhill, hot into the deep - One burning red; then gone, She too to love the night. Her sleeping lover down at dawn, In casket, safe from daylight; Dead cold upon his native earth.