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Archive-name: Poetry/sestina.txt

Archive-author: Angelia Sparrow

Archive-title: Sestina (2 Poems)

          Slavery Sestina

I kneel before you, a trembling slave;

Not daring to look on the face of my master.

I crave the whip's burning leather kiss,

You oblige me with exquisite pain.

>From my throat is wrenched a hoarse cry,

The pain I need, I receive from you, my love.

I know you do not return my love,

I am nothing to you, just a slave.

A toy to be made to moan and cry

For the pleasure of my cruel master.

If I earn it, there is harsh pain.

If I earn it, a passionate kiss.

You seek my lips, biting as you kiss.

Heartless, harsh, there is nothing of love

In it, or you.  Only the need for pain,

The inflicting of it on a wanton slave.

I submit to your pleasure, my master,

As you beat me until I cry.

Under your lash, I beg, scream and cry.

Then it is over, and you claim my lips for a kiss.

My breath back, I whisper, "I love you, Master."

Needing to declare through suffering my love.

You strike me, confirming me as a slave,

Worthy only of your scorn and pain.

"Pretty slut," you say, savoring my pain.

Running a rough hand on my back brings another cry.

Your lips descend to taste the tears of a slave;

A most revealing and condescending kiss.

You draw from me perversities made decent by love,

Violence and hurt from the hand of my master.

We know I require a severe master,

One not afraid to inflict intense pain.

One to whom I must give all my love,

Fearing no return, knowing he will make me cry

As a reward for even my very best kiss.

Even as we know you need a slave.

It is my love that permits me to cry

On the whim of my master when he grants me pain,

Or the burning kiss of leather to show I am a slave.

                 Dualistic Needs

Stiff leather at my throat             Curled tightly,

Cold steel on my wrists                Pale skin in the street lamp

kneeling, silent, bare                 filtered through the sheers

Looking up, knowing                    Your sleeping arms clutch me

cold eyes look down.                   a full size teddy bear.

I avert my eyes.                       I turn over, softly,

Not for me, the sight of him.          You also roll.

I see my reflection                    I stroke your pale hair,

small and pale                         watching as you sleep.

against the polished black             A faint smile passes, dreaming

of his boots.                          I kiss your cheek,

The smell of leather                   soft as a child's,

the rustle of a whip as it is stroked  remembering your love.

Then possessive hands,                 Your warm weight,

touching, lifting me to my feet.       the soft strokes.

I stand, exposed before him.           Long lingering kisses

Dark eyes meet mine.                   as the oil candle burns low.

A faint smile, as he bends             You stir, and one eye opens.

to claim the lips that are his.        I kiss you softly,

"Passion slave..."                     "Sleep well, precious."

        Both poems copyright 1991 to Angelia Sparrow.



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