Victoria Clayton Munn is a poet/writer with a very long and ostentatious name - but don't worry, you can call her "Tori". She's been published in such illustrious 'zines as Poor Mojo's Almanac(k), Boston Literary Magazine, Mad Swirl and Right Hand Pointing, among others. Tori lives in upstate New York with her husband, daughter and dog. You can find her at http://www.writinggirl.com.
Two Poems:
Below...and Above
Tied Up for the Moment
Two Poems (July 20, 2009. Issue 7.)
Below...and Above
You lick my heart with a forked tongue and I like the spear through my side you've pushed in. Fire singes my feet with a roast beef smell as small gremlins pull apart my toes for matches. Your nails rake my eyes with a razor sharp gleam, gasoline pours down and I am immolated, violated, titillated.
~~~
You surround me in cotton, silk, satin and I feel light as a cloud as we walk the steps of Babylon together, grapes grazing our heads purpling stains on our faces. Air cools me, warms me, keeps me safe and aloft as we ascend into the beauty and madness of the above. Your hand is warmer than mine as it cups my cheek and I am ready, so ready to jump into the fire below.
Tied Up for the Moment
Tied and bound, we're wild,
sinking down to our core.
We sweat against each other
mixing our souls, until together
we're both too big for our bodies.
Our completion is heard across the road -
as we push against the rope so
the marks stain my skin for days.
Waxed (June 20, 2009. Issue 6.)
He was into the extreme - carnal pleasures, he called them. His wife called them smut. She'd hide in her room every time he suggested sex - he'd go to his and pour ice water on his cock, get out the vibrator and tease his whole body. But he wanted more.
Rumor had it that there was a club in their small town, one that catered to just what he desired. Alfred knew he'd be accepted there, as long as he could find the location. He stopped strangling himself with his bullwhip long enough to finish off his marathon beating off session, then called the one person he knew that might be able to find the club. 
"Sam? I need it. Where's that club you mentioned when we were at that glory hole place?" Alfred was in tears, the whip flopping to the ground without a snap, his favorite sound.
"Dude, there's no club. I just was drunk talking. Wanna get together and jerk off?" Sam sounded bored, so Alfred just hung up. He sat down at the computer and clicked up his favorite webcam.
----
In her room, Angelica dressed slowly in that teddy Alfred had gotten her, the one with the slutty breast cutouts. He had no idea of her sexual desires. She LOVED sex, just not with him. The more extreme the better. Angelica put on the zippered mask that Alfred had pushed under her bedroom door on their anniversary and lit a candle. She began to shiver as the wax pooled, melted. Angelica turned on her computer and aimed a small camera at her breasts. She grabbed the candle and poured the melted wax on her nipple, climaxing just from the heat and pain.
---
Down the hall, Alfred watched a mysterious woman light her self up with hot wax. He grabbed his Fleshlight and went to town, wishing his Angelica was one tenth this hottie. As he screamed his release, he swore he heard an echo from down the hall.
Mother Mary Come to Me (March 26, 2009. New Moon. Issue 2)
Forsaken? You've done me wrong, Mary -
I've prayed your sweet name for years
worn rosaries and loved you,
among hailing our own father
I always thought of you.
Sweet Mary, the years have been tough-
spotted hands, livered hands
clutch your well-read story
your face against mine as I sleep
covered in linen and my hair.
Why won't you come for me, Mary?
I kept asking each night, since eleven
seeing your face on the family table
bound leather, bound beauty,
when I'd go to my room and release -
wanting you.
Droplets of blood spattered Jeanie's suede shoes, splashback from her latest kill. The warm copper rain sluiced down her face, and Jeanie's tongue snuck out to lick a bit of the dripping blood as it ran into the corner of her mouth. This wasn't like her at all. Desperate times, though, desperate times.
Jeanie pulled the deer she'd managed to first snare with wire and then bludgeon into the backyard, grimacing as she did so. Meat. Finally, something to eat besides stale Cheetos. She cursed the fact that everyone had left her before showing her how to drive. Thank god that survival book her brother owned had described trapping animals. And how to start a fire.
Pulling some leaves and dried grass together, Jeanie tried to light a fire, first using a stick and rub method, then a string, and striking two round stones together that most likely were not flint, as the book called for. From the driveway where she was building the fire, she could see the darkened house, her parents' Cape Cod never looking more ominous. Since the power outage Jeanie'd been afraid to stay inside for too long. No communication, no television, no lights.
Resorting to using one of the few matches she had left (something the survival book had said never to do) she managed to light the fire. Grimacing, Jeanie pulled the huge stag she'd landed over to the fire. Uncertain what to do next, she decided that putting the animal directly onto the fire would probably burn off some of the fur and skin, leaving a nice meal underneath. She lifted him and placed the deer on her handiwork, the smell of burning fur gagging her.
Just a little longer and she'd have fresh meat. It was something that Jeanie had known she'd have to do, in order to survive. With no neighbors for miles, she was pretty sure she was the only one left. The old car was still in the driveway, but at 14, Jeanie didn't feel like she had the ability to drive it. No power, no phone, no car. Water was ok, but she knew that it would stop soon too. Jeanie hadn't read The Stand six times without learning a thing or two.
At least her parents and brother had the decency to be away looking at colleges while they'd died. Jeanie didn't want to have to bury anyone while she was a lone survivor. It was bad enough facing a life alone, or even worse imagining zombies coming to feast on her brains. Tired, Jeanie decided she'd lay next to her fire, waiting for her meal to cook.
And that's how they found her the next morning, the BMW pulling into the driveway. Jeanie's mom got out first, and saw her daughter asleep next to a smoldering pile of leaves, with a blackened fawn sitting a top it. Clutched in her hand was the survival guide.
"Jeanie! We were so worried! You didn't answer the phone for two days, and we drove all night to get here!" Jeanie's mom shouted at her little survivor. Jeanie awoke in amazement, staring at her family. Dad walked into the house and reset the breakers.