In the glow of the lamps,
shadows caressed your skin.
Faces hidden, behind masks,
our bodies drew together
in a chamber of rules
where carnal love reigned. I came
to know your needs, as acolyte
tended your sacred fires.
My hands knew your every hiding place;
an obeisance, they genuflected.
Scent of lilacs cast its penumbra
of solitude over the room.
Always, the dark curtains,
the bed of four posts, the dappled walls,
wild ululations, white orb of my mask,
my burnished horns,
your grimace, frozen in gold,
and in my ancient heart, a deep loss.
You caressed me, suffered my insolence.
Your mask grinned as we touched,
yet your eyes were wet.
Does the mantis mourn its mate
when praying to the one living god?
Does she sense his coming death,
foreshadowed in her clasp of love,
a lust that knows no bounds?
The set of blows,
guarantor of their future,
his ecstatic ejaculatory wonder
at being eaten alive ―
the moment of decapitation.
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