Slipped inside three shadows, did climbing with three
moons, still Master does not greet the return. Ladder-sky
moves over two birds in strangleflight by the door.
Spickle is the fur, the tail waves aloft, yet Master
shows no concern.
Other was never seduced, now loosens the eyes, moans
in robed battle or in heat. Rooms of noise, smoke,
heels, piss, ash. Rooms of wish and spill. But Master
teases, lying so still and smelling of sweet mulch
under the nails.
Air is thick and dreamlike – sudden! – Master
is twitching with life again! Master will partake of
the Pleasures once more! O celestial happiness of the
senses! Master never fails! Master has a treat! First,
Master is making a bone.