Consolation
by Rachelle Singer
when you come to bed there
is a wilderness in your eyes
at times you are a hunter,
tracking or prey itself
we are noctural
we live for the dark
we live to hunt
we pursue each other
i am caught in the moonlight
delighted prisoner
a steel trap is fashioned
by your teeth around my wrists
we are no more than animals
pretending to be human
pretending toward tenderness
pretending to love
you devour the parts of me
no one else wants--deliberateness
obliqueness, solicitude
coarsing my blood for more
consolation comes in many colors
at sunrise--
it rests on your chest
it sings in your heart beat
it murmurs soft on your lips
it stumbles in on your hair
it erases what we know of each other
we live on, in a fever of civility.
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