Thus, engraved of form within my soul, my words do flow – I shall write from memory days recalled in the absence of soul where each encounter does render its toll.

This Risqué Night: A Villanelle

John G Evans © 2016

I’ve lived this dark and risqué night, befallen and stroked by this erotic burn –

Or tainted passions from fiery darts assailed of each by bloody means,

Where upon I lay handled by this king of slant as each man tapped his fervent turn.

Thus, transforming courage from this ancient dust relinquished as I strive to learn –

I run, I run, I convert to mean,

But each step paced aback renders such a death like urn.

I’ve searched out dimensional windows through hazardous fogs of sleep unturned –

Where the blood of my guiltless veins ravaged through as boy and seventeen,

I’ve learnt of lessons as death just is and souls are just outright burned.

My weathered face, my wrinkled skin, furtive mysteries as spurned –

I run, I run, I convert to mean,

But each step paced aback renders such a death like urn.

This pen-aged ink with virgin white scribing time upon this primal earth –

My soul held captive by bloody stains which cuts through slices of sacred veins,

Where I think I’ve freed myself with praying words.

And, where Nam’s tour ne’er deployed since beaten by this tortuous burn –

Has left this blood within my soul as ruptured too at seventeen,

Where I’ve died to each man’s wrong and survived each blow and bloodied turn,

Ne’er forgetting once the way I felt upon each stroking of the burn.

Based upon a true-life encounter in 1972.