Infernal Thoughts Poem by Mark Sconce

The last time I drank Cabernet,
That night out on the town,
Was in a seedy cabaret
Where angels can’t be found.

So when a succubus sat down
And asked if I was married,
Her face contorted in a frown
That had me dead and buried.

She pierced me with stiletto eyes
And mumbled something chthonic.
I thought I heard satanic cries;
I ordered gin and tonic.

It took awhile before her truth
Began to dawn on me:
The underworld that knows no ruth
Is part of our psychology.