Wait for me at the top of the old stairs where the creaks are the loudest and splinters catch your nightgown as you walk up to bed   By the old water pump wait for me to talk of fairies and nymphs that play in…

Deep in the woods with the moon at its peak The goblins come out to creep Along the river on paths of moss Tiptoeing past where naiads sleep They clamber over long dead ents And flee the wolf-men’s tents To gather at the Coyote’s Fang…

Red heels, body balanced above. Red dress, fits just like a glove. Red lips, seething with lust. Red rubies, slipped in the secret of my bust. Red flag, beckoning. Red silk sheets, decorate our night, into morning.