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Darkness Beyond the Light
Silken voice whispers in my ear.
Soundless, scentless until then.
I would recognize his voice anywhere, anytime.
Cold lips brush across my cheek.
With a slow turn we are face to face.
He looks exactly as he has for decades.
Dark, tall, velvet suit, high white collar framing that alabaster throat.
He is like a rumor that comes back around, believed in but never proven
When a young girl, I claimed him as my private monster. My joy, my
sorrow, my fear.
How does he know when I have reached the edge?
How does he know my fear of falling from desperate heights, either
physical or emotional?
How has he always known?
Once again he will wrap that velvet arm around me and place me on
In turn, I have always known what he will need from me.
We have danced this dance on the edge for so long, no words are
He will save me from myself and in exchange I will turn a willing throat
to his soft cold lips.
Sue Rekenthaler, social activist, organic vegetable farmer, crone.