Woodlander Sacrifice

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The old wooden caravan was parked in the woods
nearby his horse cropped the rich grass.
As the night wore on shadows drifted
into the clearing, the trees aglow
with a hundred glittering lanterns.
The beat of the music filled my head, swirling
my senses into the dance as the poteen passed
from hand to hand,
till swooning he carried me away.
He was as old as time, but his fingers
drew my cries, were they of pain or ecstasy?
Sacrificial virgin blood upon the woodland floor
continuing the ways of a thousand years.

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lorencinolorencinoover 14 years ago
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Mentioned in <i>New Poetry Recommendations</i> today.

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