Lady Morgause (Sinful Sister) by Maryann Hazen

Scratchy sanity has taken its leave
from behind my face I fear.

A fey and fainting maiden, not I,
bound and panting
by the yoke of youth and vanity.
Neither am I the white wimpled widow
bleakly leaking in false finery
nor the little drudge capped and apron'd
simpering at your knee.

I am the woman you seek to know.
One born of your own high blood.

Sleep not in the arms of loneliness.
Put up your sword, M'Lord.
Take a care. That which is left inside you
has been touched afire.
Let us run riot in the flesh of the night.

We all must struggle to stay alive,
slack-jawed in awe you shall be
insincerely mine.

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