Two Blocks Off Jackson Square

Not flying, not sinning, not courting fools,
Not staring deeply in limpid pools.
Not running, not quaking, but holding keen
A hunger within -- and fangs like jewels.

By moonlight, an ingenue strides briskly and gay
For an alcove along old Jackson's Way.
Her cheeks flushed tonight with marrow's gold.
Bright mind alight with naiveté.

A whisp of wind glides 'gainst her throat.
Her soft hands jump, tighten collar for coat.
The mind wonders why the street's grown quiet
And why the back of her neck has begun to float.

A block to the door, her heels click loud,
Drawing nearer to the room where she vainly vowed --
"Home before sunset and I'll be safe."
But she's far from the busy, partying crowd.

A flap of cloak rides against her heels.
She turns to find nothing, and so, the mind reels.
Blue eyes alight with the fear of time.
So, this is the tension of how panic feels.

Past boulangerie, bar and Minnie's Quick Loans,
She flies down rough, wet cobbled stones.
Dark silhouette from nowhere in front -- she stares,
Not fleeing, not seeing, not cries nor moans --

Cherubic faces dance gay without care
'Midst lights ablaze, they all take the dare.
But soft, a high voice doth pierce the air --
Just two blocks off Ol' Jackson Square.