The Fiend comes to me every twilight
with yellow daisies in his hands
saddle, scourge and promises of marvel-lands
a summons to spiritual flight.

The Fiend finds me moments before dusk
at the foothills of my bed
with scars and halo burn on his forehead
beneath his lip an ivory tusk.

Fire on my toes to the sound of his charmed windpipe!
my will and spine bend rubber-like
The Fiend fancies me because I'm ripe
Dream-corrupt, unhinged; ready to hang upon a pike.

With shoulders warped from wings of once upon a time
now cauterized, severed-a-bone,
majestic russet braids, silver-eyed, sublime
The Fiend feeds on my ecstatic moan

Nape saddled and blind with visions of majestic holy sins
he mounts and pulls the harness; I take height,
The Fiend then spurs my soft side, and delighted grins
and rides me to my southern light!