Sonnet Found in Castle Dracula

The furnaces burn blue tonight in grounds
I dare not view by day. They guard what keeps
me rich, tho’ bored of bullion. The sounds
that reach me here, in this castle that weeps
with child’s blood and mother’s tears, are all
just wind and wolves. In dreams only I hear
the aural perfume of your voice, in thrall
to my once ruddy flesh. A single year
outstretched, across a rack, is my record
on earth, skin denied skin. Without a mate
to feast on lovingly. To thrust a sword
into, a welcoming rosebud. To sate.

The skin on Satan’s whores is cold. I do
not crave it like a woman’s warmth. Like you.