You are no more than
A cow’s foot
Up my mouth
Down my throat
You tread down roads
Long forgotten
Yet foreign
To an unknown being
Left standing
In the middle.
You are no more than
A lion’s paw
Landing on an antelope’s
Fury, yellow skin
But when it runs,
It sprints with the wind.
You plunge like a fish
And waters purge you.
You are no more than
A fly
On someone’s back,
Settled restlessly
Skin deep, pores open
For maggots of deceit.
You are no more than a thumb,
A peck of sand,
A bliss too distant to pursue.
I curse the hours you became
The mist of a Virtue.