Direct Drafts 7

First draft of a poem inspired by a folktale

Bell Crush

What happens if I hid

From my lust and dodging through fences hail

The ferryman and flirt for a free ride. She screams on the rocks

Face’s twisted, demon. Loosing form

To swim she can always find

Me. I leave her a path deliberate even

As I run. What is this that follows me?

Her heated rage blazing behind only I

Run and lust she walks her limbs hotly contort

With delirious step. Her cock is pinched and

Leaking. She’ll catch up I am

Cooked, dead, over, finished. She pressed rippling clenching deep

To find me is not enough neither is to have me whole.

There is nothing out

Of this steaming bell. I’m wilted red

Completely killed, no thought of any plan

Is left.

This poem is inspired by a Japanese folktale I read in Japanese Ghosts & Demons The Art of the Supernatural as excerpted below: