A Taste of Fuseli’s Cold Incubus
Sitting on me
This hairy, putrid-smelling demon
Eyes darting wildly
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
Suffocating me
Pressing on my chest
Like a block of granite
He sees me gasp, struggle
“You o.k.? You’re sweating…”
My hair in tangles
Sneaks around me
Coiling, then tightening
Binding me to the bed
“Honey, wake up!”
He seems genuinely concerned now, stares but
He waits a while longer and
Feels his way over me with both hands
Shakes me from a blurred daze
To half-conscious memory
“Bad dream?”
He tries to reassure me it’s fine
He seems to find it funny, though
Maybe it’s a sign of relief, maybe
“You got me worried.
Tossing like you were possessed.”
And then something about catching my breath
The air grows cold
His touch is colder
“You’re shivering. Let me warm you.”
His wry grin exposes unlatched teeth
Ready to bite down
J.H. Lee, Oct. ‘09
Published. Yay!
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