To bloom in Thee II: Onyx Rose in Bloom
Shall I compare thee to an onyx rose?
Too dark for day, too ripe, yet not to rot—
Thou bloom’st where sacred streamlets gently flow,
Where dryads sigh and phantoms sing distraught.
Twin serpents writhe along thy moonlit spine,
Their glistened tongues sing out a breathless psalm;
Your breath the zephyr through the cypress pine,
A storm of touch disguised in dusk and balm.
No mortal flesh could hold such fierce delight,
No altar bear such ecstasy and sin.
I offer all and vow this lustful night
To enter where no soul has ever been.
O pagan muse with velvet in thy tread—
I drink thy night, and rise in thee instead.
Copyright © Billie Jama | Year Posted 2025
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