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Cleopatra’s Poison

by: Martha Kinkade

The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch, which hurts, and is desired. —Cleopatra

As much as it is her desire
it is mine
To taste the acridness
of death
I’d be the asp
nursed
at her breast
milking my way
toward darkness
I’d bite down
pinch
the nipple
with my teeth
roll
its tender edges
around my tongue
You may well feel
beauty smells
like grape leaves
mixed
with warm blood
as heart dies
in ecstasy