At his Deft Hands

D elight him, you who fear him less
Than others knowing your courage,
Which entertains him, as does your
Cowardice sustain him before
The potential of the damage
If his presence you'd confess.

R eceive him, though at night's fall,
When slightly wind causes chill and
The moon makes black, once cloaklike, weak
And the graceless skylines bleak,
You see, though you hold his thin hand,
Through the guise of gentleman on call.

E nsky him, his sense of duty
His conscience and his scruples too.
He escorts you discreetly
Yet contains you completely,
Vigils always at the side of you,
Both as jailer and as sentry.

A we of him, and awe his skill
Of fingers long and able
To surround the soul as lightly
As the throat of an old enemy
To tease until the tight'ning fatal
The threat of sweatbeads to fulfill.

D one, he departs each unconfessed
As cold his adept handling
And the being from which both stem.
Done, he departs, leaving them
Often straight-backed and standing,
But leaving them lifeless.