A Poetic Riddle

This is my first (and quite possibly only) attempt at free verse.

Guess the title of the poem

Armed with knife and trident I advance
Toward the freezing dragon with icy jaw of death
Where dead things lay, their rot stayed by mankind’s spell-dance,
I seek a grain-offering for the God of Life, but foes wait with bated breath.

Bravely I wrench apart the iron jaws and teeth
Searching for the sacrificial food from Ceres’s fields
Heeding not the nameless muck that stagnates at my feet
Only hoping that my courage shall not yield.

For behold, as I search, my passions assail me
Aided on by the magic that surround my being
Enticing charms are set by fearsome creatures that don’t heed
The good and bad, the laws set down by Perfect Being.

(At any other time, I need not turn aside,
On any other day, these things would have no peril
But at the sage decree of my God’s Perfect Bride
These things now are the death of me, a mortal, sinful, swirl.)

I gaze in fear and wonderment and desire
At the casters of the magic: The half-dead boars, unclean swine
The pagan entrails and tripe, the undead chickens fried by fire
And worst of all, seductive cows, bovines that craze like wine.

I cannot fight these phantoms pre-killed!
Not with mere carnal weapons bright!
I need a weapon of wizard skilled
A potion magic-bright!

No scholar am I of wizardry, but I know enough to see
That only one thing will save me: a sort of food of plant
Will no vegetables come and save me
From my hunger for domesticated vampirants?