By Laura Fox | Featured Contributor

She sleeps 
Beneath a stone 
With pallid lips sealed tight. 
But when come shades of night 
Then forth, alone, 
She creeps. 

Her wan 
And ghastly frame 
Should, ages since, be dust – 
Yet, after death, she must, 
Despite the same, 
Live on. 

She bleeds 
My throbbing veins, 
Imbibing greedily 
Their red vitality. 
As my strength wanes, 
She feeds. 

Helpless, 
I can’t resist 
This blight consuming me: 
Each sleepless night, to be 
Fervidly kissed 
By death. 

Raw grief – 
Tormenting pain – 
Soulless automaton – 
Oh, must she wander on 
And never gain 
Relief? 

What stake, 
What herb, what knife, 
Can rive the binding spell, 
Can damn Un-Death to hell, 
That, from it, Life 
May wake? 

Vampire, 
Haunt me no more. 
Cast off thy dread disease! 
Keep but sweet memories – 
My one, my sure 
Desire. 

My arm 
Will make thee free: 
My hand, my act, my choice, 
E’en while my loving voice 
Breathes over thee 
A charm. 

“Release, 
Thou unstill breast, 
The spirit of my love. 
Unchain the captive dove 
That she may rest 
In peace.” 

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About the Poet – Laura Fox

Hello, I’m Laura Fox! My husband and I live with our three children on an organic farm on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. On our blog, Fox’s Eden, we share words of humor, hope, and healing. I have published a poetry book titled The Rose and the Thorn and am starting up a group on Zoom where we discuss such topics as sustainable farming, holistic health, and green living.

Visit Laura’s Blog

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