Men with feasting eyes

look up to fill the cup

look down to hopeless strangers

look to seeding thighs while

 

tucked up in their beds

in dreams of sweat and horror

as light stays low

through window traps

 

and bloated thoughts entwine

the flesh like celandine

despoiled by salty hands

foraging with desperate lust

 

the fragile petals of simple trust

and drown those young tomorrows

in sacrificial wine.