Black Magic

Feel my brimstone kiss,
my broomstraw eyelashes,

see the black diamonds tucked
in between. Yes, I am heartless.

But still, I search for the black star,
that one evening of bliss.

Please, take my boney hand. We’ll make
our own twist, intertwine like two

slippery asps. Don’t you want me
to be your succubus?

We’ll trade our black leather
bound bibles for the black bottle.

We’ll baptize ourselves
in this basiled bathwater.

Your fingerprints plot our sin, my hand
to your lips, we both want this.

You are my sulfur without salt,
my lover without eyes.







Mirissa Rini has an MFA in poetry from the NEOMFA Program. She is managing editor for the Cleveland State University Poetry Center and a poetry editor for Whiskey Island Magazine.