Following the auspicious orb, she in her needle to the sky opened. 
The four cradled in your hand, essence of shade found prison. 
Eyes revealing the universe in cages of flesh and bone, 
dusted off the floor by ragged tufts of silver. 
The hag was her own master: whose destiny was it that the orphan was after?

The demesne (with a brooding life of its own) rose in relief from a warm bosom that held it close. 
Maya who could not be roused from her slumber.  Pulled by the radiance of twisting through, 
ignoring the fragile shroud of glass.  Barefoot, seeking the graze of company in abandoned rooms. 
Mist of gloom that the spirits’ touch had cast.  She had applied the necessary maquillage. 
Nonchalance, a pallor that would not last.

Aimless and disjointed, 
the host of last night’s masque had been warned by the anxious, clean scent. 
With childlike neglect and ragged gaps in their teeth, the scathing hypocrisy 
of mid-evening pleasantries was a promise well kept. 
“None of this is true”, she sighed. 
The promenade waits only for you. 

Party favors do their turn. She offers me a new skill to learn and choke. 
Does it matter what becomes when she compensates with feverish strokes! 
Taking my hand to lead past the doors to softly breathe. 
Outside the evening’s freshness 
and whisper of softest fabric 
just before we feed. 
The garden knows our secret.

The Huntsman draws upon his splintered horn to signal the chase. 
She closes the gap, revealing her lust:

    “You bring me to a frenzy”

with the fiendish baying of the horde and the strike of the match against stones. 
A storm of candles wildly flickers in the ensuing rapture. 
Let the others have their sport purveying the gristle and gore, 
a wilding of dread and fascination. 
Whilst we catch our death of fire in sordid pose, 
drowning in wine, engaging in the ancient cure.

Fair of face and of indomitable will, she touches me here. 
Enraptured by the sultry, merciless heat of the race, in tandem ragged gasps. 
Heart caving in and eyes blinded by the fae toxin of Glamour, 
I barely hear her whisper: 

    “Here you must stay”

I fell victim to a ravenous fever.
The demesne settles down for a moment on the earth’s bosom. 
Stalking along the fringes, she a wolf to the finale sent. 
Pulling on the soft autumn fields before twilight’s descent, I found my bed unmade. 
A throat surging with rabid impulse, her webbed skin spoke volumes. 
The werelight an aura formed, and wisps escaping play a curious rhythm upon her eyes. 
She passed through the throng unharmed, bothered not by the commoners’ excited cries.

Oblivious to the slip and I was being baited. 
She looks hungry, but makes not a sound. 
Sooner or later while not long she waited: 
She knew I would come crashing down.