as a fire burns within me i sit in a hut

with a white eyed woman/milk-eyed/like marbles sunk into lips of bruised

 

fat/hair like rust on silk/each strand disintegrating in loops and leaves

in the solid breeze flowing from somewhere far eastern

 

and dangerous/where horns are ground for impotence and kaffir

lime leaves scent the air like the perfume of an elderly lady with

 

white eyes and hair like rust on silk/sweat sticks to my skin

as i peel off my clothes//