accept my oblations,
o tiny winged creature,
thin-legged lithe and ethereal.
who would not believe you a hero?
your noble wings, a majestic cape,
fit for knights of old,
who would not cringe
to witness your majestic flight,
your delicate touch,
like a bored damsel,
tracing her lover’s skin
with enchanted indifference.
you’ve made night your ally,
you’ve summoned my applause
and muffled my scream,
in awe of your winged majesty,
o patient one, I have raged,
slammed my uncomprehending head on an unyielding wall
I have cried
I have shed muffled tears
amazed at how much your kiss
plunges men into sheer madness,
I have stared into blankness,
my heart racing,
spurred into a love of hatred;
hatred that wishes and pray,
but is love after all
gentle flight, o winged creature,
as you pour
your venom in me.
