- What do you want from me,
- tipsy fox-woman
- wild like a revanchist Erineyes?
- Pitiless you haunt me
- through my resentful tears
- even when my eyes creep shut arthritically
- under a sky of cloud-reflected streetlight.
- The sounds of the night are thunderously dimmed
- like the rain-eclipsed stars
- by the sharp-tipped fingers
- of your astringent laughter.
- The blood which wanders through
- the vessel of my body is thin
- but it is Pyriphlegethon
- to the sour wine which trickles through
- the grain of your carven form.
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