Moving out of the shadows she transforms herself.
In the flickering lights of the dark street she moulds herself
Into a form of humanity â
Almost perfect.
Gliding through the streets she feels a presence:
A heady wash of human pulses,
Human blood,
Pounding already in her temples as if in anticipation
Of the kill.
She moves like a ghost â silent and sure â
Or like a cat â graceful and sleek.
Everyone sees her, and yet none perceive her.
She is the scavenger in a city of monsters,
And none may bar her passage.
It is midnight â the bells of St Alfonso's clang their warning
To anyone who cares to hear â
And the moment is almost at hand.
She has seen him.
A tall figure, dressed in black, with long flowing locks of a deep ebony.
He carries a silver-tipped cane, a man of distinction, no doubt.
He walks alone, but self-assured.
In the neon glare of a street-light he pauses to adjust his collar before glancing
Back along the passageway.
His eyes glitter, red in the darkness, as he spots her.
One hand, long, pale and bony, reaches out from a lace cuff
Towards her.
She hesitates, unsure at the fateful moment if what she does is right.
But she must advance â his eyes say it as surely as does her heart â
And in seconds she has latched herself to him.
Her mouth pressed to his deep blue vein
Her teeth gnawing at the thin skin to gain a purchase
She pleads for salvation in cries of blood
And with a desperate borne of hunger she tears at his hand
Before he raises her
And forces her mouth onto the open wound on his throat
Where already the blood of life is weeping out
Into the ruffles of his silken collar.
He is her final meal, and her first
For in tasting the blood of the true vampire
She has deserted her mortal life for ever
And the thirst for immortality has at last
Inevitably
Been quenched.

Tags: poem

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