A tranquil bird
in solipsistic glee,
likened to me
irreparably,
to drown the sea.

So when the creature
in your young and
supple neck
your beauty mark
you make me sick
will burst forth in
a bloody fit,

like a vendetta'd thing.

It's sopping wings,
can't help me, please.
and falling to the ground
--your knees.

You writhe tonight
and rise,
to writhe
and bloody hooves,
a slice of pie.