To Bloom in Thee I: Pagan Muse Psalm
Shall I compare thee to an onyx rose?
Thy thorns draw blood as softly as thy lips,
A bloom that drinks the night where moonlight flows,
With shadow wine which this mortal sips with willing lips.
By torch of bone and ash of laurel leaf,
We tread the path where triple faces leer,
Twin serpents coil beneath thy midnight sleeves,
And stir with lust to taste thy pulse so near.
The altar burns with musk and sacred flame,
Your breath the incense rising to the skies.
I cry thy name in waves of holy shame,
And lose myself in temples of thy thighs.
O dark enchantress, bound in root and rite—
In thee I bloom, in thee I taste the night.
Copyright © Billie Jama | Year Posted 2025
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