Psalm, The Last
Mistress Shar spread putrid flesh across the table before me.
'Eat of my bounty!' She urged.
She pressed her bitter mouth to my ear, and her clawed hand to my loin.
'Take your pleasure!' She whispered.
Her tongue dripped poison into my mouth.
'Be quenched!' She cried.
The Harpers near victory, our fates are writ.
Dark Goddess, we partake as you charged.
On this great beast's flesh, let us feast!
Our loins and lips, let us ravish!
Of this poison, let us drink!
If darkness we must know, let us be gorged as it takes us.