By Marge Simon

You found me in the weeds
that sprouted on your lover's grave;
my raven fur and sapphire eyes
quite captured your fancy,
so you took me home
to lie purring on your bed.

Protean, my form shimmers,
to change before your widened eyes;
I wrap you in my fetid arms,
stifling your screams.
Mistress, stroke me:
I'm your special ghoul.