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.