Servitude

Aristocratic love affair,
I bow before their eminence.
Settling kisses on soles,
tasting dusty retrospection
and pomegranate stained boots.

You voraciously led me to your
chamber,
where fire flickered against
the wooden shadows
of the windowpane.
We drowned in whimsical light,
romantic proceedings to follow
an array of fervid,
sickly passions.

To the Queenship that held
preeminence and above me
the promise
of devoted sacrifice to
my carcass.

Alluring siren pull me to drowning,
gorge on my body.
So that I may be remembered as
a delicious delicacy of
meaty flesh,
you rammed into your intestines.
So that part of me may exist
in those red flushed cheeks.
For I brought the nutrients
for you to thrive longer.

Majesty,
may my servitude
bring you feast after feast.
Grand banquets of savory
morsels and rare treats
you so gluttonously desire.
Indulge in tastes of Sappho’s fruits,
and the most angelic of creatures.

The brothel of women,
victims to the promise of hope.
Clinging so desperately to a
peasants craving of mobility.

May we mourn them.