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“Beloved Femme Fatale”


Musk and Neroli satin skin spoons
Naked feet ‘neath The Pillars of Petra
She towers majestic above you, colours your grey skies
You are worshipping her on your knees
What does it matter, anymore? Before your eyes, the story unfolds . . .

Such supplication suits the silence in her movement’s music,
There is a symphony in her slender fingers.
She reveals to you her story, simple, as they speak in hushed signs
That softly tease the air, not you. Like harp strings,
She plucks your heart, discards your thorny disguise.

Lapis Lazuli dripping her irridescent Blues
Between her breasts, around her knees,
Smokey Green Aventurine her windows 
Belie her different dimension’s aventurescence.

Mirror quartz bedazzled scrying, what is this phenomenon?
You dream you are in her eyes, you now see yourself 
Some other soothsayer soul gone Eagle Condor wild -
Like a Magi Djinn you are, soaring high, in her eyes you are flying.

Then, there you lie, in the reflection of her twin iris fires, you've alighted
both feet on ground, though you know you are no longer sound.
She’s a Lost City somewhere,
Buried underneath the dry desert sandstorms 
Of your mind.

Mysterious, dark and hidden, she waits to be discovered
And all her treasures, your five senses lay bare, so naked
Plundered, while she lies conquered splayed and love drugged 
on her throne - 
You find you are no longer speaking to an empty chair.

Your coal warm hands part the flaming fan of jet and there,
Just there, you know where
you witness her distant smile
She is nowhere near you yet, 
She is dreaming in Ancient Sanskrit…

She is casting her runes.
She opens the floodgate to the Secret Place, all in good time, where
Ruins of passion, ripe succulent Pomegranate dusted in Palm Sugar
Her fruits are all lying open and waiting to be tasted
this is her Temple of Subjugation.

Her kisses, deep raw Vanilla and soft essence of Blood Red Persian Roses
Crushed Velvet petals lie at the heart of her heated Shrine
Now blooming swollen exotic violet
Higher and higher she climbs.

You’re genuflecting
She worships your Sun rising
Where she lies in her Moonlit valley 
Running milky Rivers of Pearls.

A dusty blind sweet passage she transforms 
Echoing epiphanies of escalating ecstasies 
Au tres Sauvage, never sublime, 
Opalescent orbs swelling
Two Moons of The Goddess 
In twin reflective mirrors now feverishly shine.

She sings poems of Love in her sweet distress.
No destruction, no pain in this hidden city now fully undressed,
She transmutes from Woman into the Girl of her youth, again
You lay your crown in her beseeching arms 
While you trust her magic and bid farewell to peace, rest and all things sane.
For you see,  you’ve now entered her Kingdom, she resides on another elusive otherworldly plane.

An Ocean is rising
The Gift is delivered, delicious and dripping.
She is High Priestess
In the midst of your dreaming, you’re over the edge euphorically tripping.
You are the sacrificial offering and you go gladly
Lick the salt, pay your alms, you drink her up 
Drunk on her julip you wanted so badly.

Your ship is rocking
You have been cast in a spell
You dance in her storm, you think by now, you know her so very well.
You're Odysseus' charms break Circe’s gold chains, you think you have broken the spell that unlocks who she truly is, you connect - 
She’s The Electric Storm come to defibrillate your waning, lacklustre Tempest.

She is wrecked on the Shores of Femme Violent, 
behind her the Woods of Lost Love.
Calm waters you float towards her necromancy
A single silver silent Gondola sluicing Venetian Canal, 
you and your mortal sorcery.
What harm to again approach this Rasputin Romance,
You are Royal Romanov come back from the dead for last dance.

Her smile is low and bewitching
She calls only to you her Siren call, you can tell.
In the World of The Dreaming
You reach her Pillars of Petra,

Your Long Lost City
Your Beloved Femme Fatale

(Lovejoy-Burton/March 2018)
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