The Wanting in the Garden
chills all but the heavenly heat
which warms my hellish heart.
The moon lights the tower window
where she combs her auburn hair
and shivers in her fur-trimmed robe.
Even if I wasn't merely a blacksmith,
she could never love me.
She would shriek in fear
of my wolfish teeth and shrink
from my clawed fingertips.
So I watch and dream.
I inhale her scent on the wind-
flowers and herbs, well water and lemon.
Though I would never harm her, I imagine
the taste of her blood on my tongue.
In the morning I will shoe her
royal horses' feet; I will bow as
her carriage passes, and at night,
I will again wait in the bushes below
her chamber and watch her
beneath the disapproving face
of my moon-father.
Sharp nails retract
Kate Hill has always loved action, romance, and horror which is why she usually combines at least two out of the three in her stories. Besides writing, her interests include reading and martial arts. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association and the ERA. Her fiction and poetry has appeared in several small press and online zines including Shadow Feast and Vampire Dan's Story Emporium. Upcoming publications include Circlet Press, genrEZONE, and 69 Flavors of Paranoia. When she's not working on her own stories, she's reading for the zine Parchment Symbols which she publishes and co-edits.