Across the Anvil and Burning
Hester J. Rook
Come now, sit. There,
where the iron meets the shallow ground.
your skin over the cinders, lick up the ash until
you are grey and smeared with a thousand deceased flames.
Now, are you ready, my girl? Oh
you are ready.
Let me temper you in this forge
pour heat into you, melt
under my blows and my gaze and the
workings of my fingers.
I would smoke you
Let the warmth rise til your sweat is slick and
sizzling down your back
between your thighs.
I would sear you with my fingerprints,
and study how the ash marks change as you
You will writhe.
When you are complete
face up among the coals and heaving
I will slip sugar pieces and chips of ruby
grapefruit between your flushed lips.
I will cool your gullet with iced wine
bathe you in cherries and break
shards of sandalwood against your skin
so its scent bubbles and unfurls,
so I can taste the holiness in the air.
My girl, my love, you are now so sharp
Hester J. Rook is a Rhysling Award nominated poet and co-editor of Twisted Moon Magazine. She’s on Twitter @kitemonster and her other publications can be found on her site [https://hesterjrook.wordpress.com/] . You can best find her salt-scrunched on beaches, reading arcane tales and losing the moon in her tea.