Hall of the Mountain King

The mountain king is decked in onyx and garnets
hair a cavern waterfall, eyes blue-glow mushrooms
gauntlets with silver rings, armor of obsidian woe
spikes ring him like a necklace, his hall is steel
we embrace in the depths of Typhon’s lair, no air
but smoky fumes and frankincense trickles, all black
plumes of volcanic mediumship, his kisses are molten
baking me into being in a dragon’s womb, I am coal
pressured into diamond, Lot’s salt wife bride, and I
cannot breathe, for my windpipe clangs metal, a gong,
a song of those dark elves below grounds, who call it
their home, alone, the mountain king, his wife of stone.

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