Eros Stone

A stone sentinel, bound by a distant siren's eros, burns, yearning for her honeyed tide.

I am a sentinel, ancient stone steeped in the musk of Eros,

Her Siren's hymn creeps low; her fragrance coats my thoughts,

She's leagues distant, yet distance dissolves in her thrall,

Her words flaunt her spell, and I drink as she unfurls their fire,

Her teasing manna feeds a veiled desire, my unquenchable flame,

I sense the demon she chains, raw lust; her taste leaps from the page,

Her specter touch ignites me through the cold expanse,

I am a sentinel, ancient stone bound by the pulse of her Eros,

O Siren, drench me in your honeyed tide that I might sleep.

—Noisy Wren