I wander the street late at night
to see if I’m bona fide
like a butcher who skins his meat
with orthogonal stride

of that blade, ready and slim,
as a desperate bride
who has given in to whim
after celibate ride

With your features, I’ll often meet,
after loosening pride
with the juice set free by feet
of both woman and child

Our time is steady and fleet
as a swallow’s dive
swooping in to greet
the least conspicuous side

of the insect, plenty and meek,
who wandered outside the hive
without fear of one who’d ink
end to natural life.

I’m
will be your bonfire
I’ll gladly serve ’till end

I will
wear my embers
until after their light is spent