Little Difference

I danced with the devil
On a slender thread.
We balanced on air
As if it had substance.

The devil is a woman
With eyes like autumn
Hair of pale moon
And the kiss
Of nightshade.

The devil is scented
In lavender
Has the touch of
Sweet flame
Searing the soul
Burning the nerve root
Until you cannot
Feel yourself dying.

How tender her kiss!

Her charms
Embrace desert winds
Filling your heart
With sand
And you think you’re dancing.

But there’s little difference between
Dancing
And writhing.