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Incubus
Part 1.The Maiden
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F
rom the realm of drifting smoke Where sun, nor planets light the sky, Summoned by a maiden's want, To earthly shores departed I. Called forth from sweet oblivion Where I abode in dreamless ease, By deep desire conjured up To drift upon the midnight breeze. To the world of mortal flesh In light and substance intertwined, Beneath a phase-black lunar disc My name and nature came to mind: The phantom lover Incubus, In whisper and in legend known, And known too, by my mocking sign- The damp and rumpled sheets of dawn. And as I drank the sweet night air That wafted o'er a mighty town, Amid the many-towered streets My ghastly spirit drifted down. I gloated then in fiendish pride, Knowing soon that I would feed Upon sweet nectar from the blooming Flower of a maiden's need. Beneath a lifted window sash I entered on a quiet room. I smelt the smell of woman then, As heady as a sweet perfume. Pallid apparition I, Gazing down upon her bed, Looked in wonder at this maid To whom the trail of longing led. And yes, I grinned with wicked joy When I beheld this lovely thing Which summoned me from nothingness In want of my fey servicing. For in the warm and sultry night, Her bed clothes cast asunder, She seemed a sumptuous banquet feast Set out to satisfy my hunger! Ebon hair in waves cascading Formed a frame around her face, Arrayed in splendid glory there Upon a linen pillowcase. As innocent as Eve did sleep Before the temptor thought of clothes, So too, in summer's heat did she, This maiden, lie in nude repose. I gazed in awe upon her form So fair of limb and torso. No goddess of antiquity, Nor fabled nymph was more so. Her skin like alabaster carved By master sculptor's gifted hand And yet, suffused with flowing life, Was almost more than I could stand. Beneath closed lids, those darting eyes Bespoke a fev'rish dreaming state Driven by the power of her Deep-felt yearning to create. Thus in her presence formless ghost Took shape and corporality, Transformed into the image her Suppressed libido lent to me. So reaching out my almost-arm, I lightly traced with finger tip The bow of cupid outlined by Her claret-colored upper lip. It crowned a mouth voluptuous That parted slightly at my touch, Which in my halfway human form Indeed, did thrill me very much! It set a pulsing in my blood (Or ichor such as I possessed) As feather-light I placed my goblin Hand upon her silken breast. Just then a moan of deep desire Issued from my sleeping maid, Soft and faint as pan-pipes playing In some distant forest glade. In restless summer slumber She turned her lovely head, Her ivory brow was furrowed As I climbed onto her bed. And stretched across her body It began almost to seem... As though I was a human man, And not the creature of her dream. 'Twas in this state of fancy that I Gently kissed those claret lips. I lay me down upon her, and I Ran my hands along her hips. And then until the morning light I loved her long, I loved her slow, Until at last with night I vanished When the cock began to crow. |
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Part 2. The Waxing Moon
