draw the venom

This is a "dovetail", a poem that goes with a chapter in "The Tales of Aubergine and the Amomancer", which I hope to post later today on The City of Legends.

draw the venom

deep and unclean, the wound festers,
testing your endurance and those who cannot bear
to see your pain and dare not stand to draw out
the venom you have come to take as part of life
that is permanent and penitent and perverse.

a curse, if you would, accepted as inevitable
and surrendered to in exhaustion and regret.
I kiss the wound and lay my heat upon it,
feeling it as a living thing, saying softly
to me "She is mine, come no closer".

I kiss the wound and close my eyes and dream
a dream yet unfulfilled and, singing psalms,
under my breath, bartering death for life
I cannot live without, I draw out slowly
the bitter gall that chills your veins and heart.

I draw out the venom as gently and thoroughly
as I can, ever vigilant for your pain and strain
that I may not, again, be one who merely
slapped linen to poisoned skin and looked
the other way for another day and did not stay.

the wound is deep and a part of you now,
and everyday for the rest of my life, if I must,
I will draw out the venom in touch and kiss and word
you may have heard once upon a time, but never
through lips that have dared to draw the venom.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.