Last evening I fell for a vampire
With brooding black circles
a bleeding young liver
Beautiful body of mortar and bile
With lovely grey eyelids that long to retire

Dreams of an old room
with white plaster windows
and ghosts that [bad word] as they go

But patience is daunting and after a while
His nerves start to tingle his body perspires
and reaches for old wounds
he threw to the water
with letters to mermaids and small sunken liners
now dressed all in algae so green and so lovely
With mothers in nightgowns asleep in their quarters.

If I were beautiful
subtle and touchable
Would you linger to suckle and lie in my bathwater?

Stay, stay, stay
Pogroms they are prancing like pirates to pillage
Stay, stay, stay
Pogroms they are vampires bleeding my village

Till everything's cotton and dry and the valley's like snow
He sings like a matchstick with wolves
by the fire
and old prairie cradles that creak like a choir
hot coals upon old wounds
he curses his father
writing songs for his
funeral pyre