Fall 1994 • Vol. XVI No. 4 Poetry |

Desire

In the beginning, the Devil came only as a shadow. He had no voice. No substance. No weight. Howshy he was, coiled in the long dark at the foot of her bed, watching fine strands of moonlight fall, bright strings of pearl, across the coverlet, his vigilant eyes like grace notes against the strange new melody of her flesh. Her mother said, "Pray to resist temptation," stood the plaster Virgin in her azure cloak upon the windowsill. Her mother said, "The world is filled with evil minds. Men will notice you." And she closed the door so the girl was alone with the Virgin and the moon rising until, near midnight, it reached its zenith and the Devil woke her with a voice exactly like her own, his shadow lying across her feet. She never thought he would be so patient, so mild in his approach. He gave her time to say no, though she didn't, when he asked her to raise her nightshirt a little at a time—first the ankles, calves, and only later, the thighs. In the mornin

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Halloween

By Frankie Paino

In the beginning, the Devil came only as a shadow. He had no voice. No substance. No weight. Howshy he was, coiled in the long dark at the foot of […]

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