WILD
Tigress,
I sip
shadows from your skin,
peeling
the dark tongues
until
the blue muscle
is flayed open:
succulent.
My blood hisses
against the
white jags of
tooth and claw—
I whisper
this is moonlight.
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"This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper." --T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men."
I will cleave until the white ugly heart of your skull is barren and yet I shall love you to the uttermost days of my life.
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