By the glow of the gibbous Moon she drifts,
resting by day.
A thousand nights, a thousand summonses she rides,
a pall of blood upon the land.
Her evil embraces compliantly answered a thousand men,
to their incomprehesnible pleasure and indescribable pain.
Tenderly, sweetly she took the proffered seed,
offering hideous death.
Until in Alexandria one portentous and pregnant Night,
she encounters a troubled and troubling soul.
One reached for her awake, aware and bold.
His spirit was clean and yet unbound.
And he strangely perplexed the sinuous dancing snake.
The Poet, Melios.
She slides through the entrance silent and sure
to know him.
Who are You?
Man, know you not how you imperil thyself>
Thy immortal soul?
Melios extends his hands, inviting the serpent in.
"Lamia, come here."
So intrigued was she by the Poet-man
she cast her mortal form about her.
Poet, how come you to have no fear
of the Creature that haunts the night?
"I am not frighted by the fishwives' talk.
It only enthralls.
"You vex me, and you plague my odes,
Goddess, phantom, wraith.
"Bide with me during the brunt of day.
Let my shutters block out the light.
"When the Sun quits Geos for other shores,
then we will scale the Olympian heights.
"Stay with me, Lamia. I would have you
for my own.
"All that I require, all that I need
is in you.
"Though we anger the gods with our love
we would find peace and succor therein."
He said, "I waited many lifetimes for you
and would scribe your story in verse.
"Only: curb your unholy insatiable thirst for letting
of the blood.
"Whilst you bare your lonely thoughts to one
who worships you."
Seduces Poet Melios.
Lamia, lost in his spell, considered the man.
Melios, I will.
So the lovers entwined by the elegant Moon,
together making one.
Sly Poet Melios, who hid his wife by day
and woke her with kisses by night.
For two years she gladly forswore the blood,
and she found herself heavy with child.
With her time anear, she gave tortuous birth
alone one eve.
A boychild made his way into the world,
lifeless, soulless, still.
Anguished, the aching mother breathed for her child;
amid the gore of labor she slaved.
Covered with bodily fluids she frantically, quickly worked
the fruit of her womb to save.
Fevered, she attempted to make her son live.
To no avail.
Beseeching the Powers That Be she imploringly prayed,
let him cry!
O Hygea, please
But the Powers were willfully deaf that night.
Lamia woefully weeped.
Sadly she wrapped the stillborn child and slowly
made to rise.
Melios entered the bloody tableau, bewildered beyond belief.
"Lamia, why did you kill my son!"
Oh Melios, what do you say? Judge not,
I entreat you!
Melios, dare you accuse? Our babe was born
dead, my love.
But Melios, dreadully horrified, retreated on fearstricken feet.
He gathered the townsmen to his side.
Lamia buried her love along with her child,
then she escaped for the Elysian Fields.
Close by, Lamia sensed the pursuing, baying hounds;
knives, sharpened blades.
Melios, Poet, at the head of the tribe
showed the way.
I loved thee
Thus fled Lamia. Weary and weak and worn.
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