The scant, gray room
Where you forced me to live
Me like a fox
Silken, amber fur
With hungry teeth

I imagined escaping you
That cool, spring morning
In our Swiss train station
Your heels knocking in echo
And I afraid of the machinery

You asked, “Why do we do
The things we do?”
And I kissed your nose
Like tasting a hen

I gave my ticket to a boy
And he boarded without bags
My gloves felt too tight
Black, like your hair
And smelling of blood