Le Marcou

The stars portended something dark the night that I was born.
The priest was called for blessings, from the rose there came the thorn
that would grow up strangely different, as though the birthing wasn’t done.
And so began life for me… Marcou… the seventh son.

I never understood why my Mother turned to gin…
She must have understood what was growing deep within.
I never knew my father and she would cross herself when asked.
Then on my fourteenth birthday, the truth was finally unmasked.

Growing up it seemed I was both blessing and a curse.
For a bribe of liquor or sometimes for something worse
my Mother would hold sessions – healings they were called –
where she’d mumble arcane words over symbols that were scrawled
on tattered bits of paper.  Then, she’d have me lay on hands
and people would be cured as if by her command.

The world I knew came to an end the day I turned fourteen.
In my room, late at night, from forces then unseen
I felt myself changing, feelings overwhelmed me like a flood.
A hunger woke inside me that could only be quenched by blood.

For all the healings I had done while my Mother prayed
I would now collect my due – in blood I’d be repaid.
As I sought dark shelter, protection from the dawn
I knew at last my father… for I was his vampire spawn.

Born in the darkest sin of all, I listen to the bloodlust call
and I am nurtured one last time as I willingly give in…
                                            …her blood laced with gin.