Venus In Furs

In her mellifluous laughter,
a joy took to the heavens
that swooped and soared,
striking the hearts of many
with a resounding whistle
of the arrow’s might

as she shivered.

A pale hand reappeared;
then withdrew itself,
as if it had been slapped
by the unrelenting cold.

Her own form of retaliation
was to wrap herself
even more tightly in the
fur coat that spilled over
the carpet in despair,

seeking its own warmth
in the still, plush deaths
of ermine foxes.

Die for her? Yes!
They mouthed silently,
their vacant stares
understandably blind
to her dusky sort of glamour.

© Zelda Reville





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