Gratitude for his protection,

She is a cub in his arms.

Brings a tear.

A hungry tick,

Chewing on the lash.

It stays there,

And tickles.

Her braids stroke his obelisk body.

Scratching the fragile antique.

His hair is not the red of yesterday's end.

The room disappears in the light of the television.

A podium in a packed theatre.

She moves to steal his kiss,

But he is not asleep.

She had been a winging child,

Thief of the silent night.

She craves him.

She will be punished.

His neck is something bulky.

His bare feet, where she climbs him.

His jeans are the thing she holds onto.

These thoughts devour her body, tears and all.

Her fragile bulimic frame,

Ugly and weak.

The bed in the other room,

Drips with apple juice.

The couch is their broken elevator.

But he educated this tired Neanderthal.

She is the molten apple,

The dark juice.

He could indulge her,

Taking a bite,

And swallow.