The silver ripple of the lyre
    The quiescent thunder of a gentle drum
    I see your eyes, my father's eyes, grow wide
    I hear you cry my name in silence
    Longing to kiss my brow that brushed the floor
    To stroke the hips that quivered
    At your will I became the serpent who writhed
    with the calling of a sultry tune
    At my will a life shall be forfeit
    A thorn bleeding in my mother's side
    What shall I ask that serves to merit
    The thousand sins that drowned me in one lusty wink
    What earthly thing should balance this?
    Upon my name will ill will fall?
    Will I outlive in shame what you have in gold?
    For when the fanged serpent opens her lap
    The heads of mighty men fall forth

'Salome' © Andrea Diaz forever. May not be reproduced without permission