I’m very grateful to share this poem from Eugie Foster, and wish I could have worked with her in person. Thanks so much to Alex Hofelich for connecting Nightmare to this dark little treasure.
Sleepless midnight, in the cold
I found a glass to peer through.
Burnt, I shiver as I behold
Your eyes like claret wine
And your arms molten silver.
Candle trembling, about to die
Your father guards you, jealous, mad
He does not see my merit.
Since I could not buy your hand,
I stole it.
Painted lips wrought harlot lies
With a virgin’s wide-eyed wonder.
Crucified between your alabaster thighs,
You cannot leave me, though you tried to run
Death will make you true.
Your hair swept the garden grounds,
Where I buried you.
You shamble to me every night
Damp earth enfolds my member.
You do love me, my eternal wife
My Julia, forever.
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