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Arisen with dusk, her form ascends
As her chariot soars the Carpathians
Her eyes e’er black as a raven’s syzygy among her steed’s descent
Darvulia waits near the fortress gates
Descending Cahtice her steeds in haste
The ardent night’s fog surrenders in awe to the countess’ form whose hair set the sky aflame
…
Come now, my queen, o’er the archangel’s flight
A virgin to whore I wish thee of this night
…
Her fantasies speak of the maiden she seeks
Whose voice sang of angels, the night’s thunder wept
“To the snow depraved home they arrived”
Sealed of the dragon, the envelope passed
Ilona’s presence invoked of Lady Bathory
…
Ilona made haste to Cahtice
Her fear invoked tears crystaline
Her virginal body had trembled in the nocturnal scheme
…
She entered in fear of the Bathory home
The countess ‘laxed sky-clad yet black velvet-robed
Her lips met her hookah, smoked filled the air
The countess bequeathed of her song while caressing her hair
…
But Ilona was silenced in fear
As Elizabeth came to her tears
Elizabeth stood ever silent in rage
Her black nails made ruin of Ilona’s face
…
She bit of her flesh drawing blood of her blooms
Her swan song derision took thirst to the wounds
…
To the mirrors whence buried ‘neath snow
…
Wearing merely flesh she was lured to the site
The midwinter sky so archaic this night
Forced to the ground as tears froze from her eyes
Doused e’er soon solid, a sculpture of ice
Again ne’er to sing of heavenly delights
In this repose midwinter claimed her life
As latent wargasms laid to rest in her eyes
…
Elizabeth dreamed as she lucidly slept
Of Ilona’s cadaver caressing her flesh
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C. Allen Thompson – 1999
A Carnival of Fables 