A creature of luxury, he sprawls, cocooned by lazy sunlight in a coat of living shadow.
An indolent king in his summer palace, he dreams
of other kingdoms in ancestral forests, of times when nighttime was an instinct
and hunger the aching heartbeat of the realm.
There he ruled from dusk to dawn, a stealthy sovereign whose lamplight eyes caught
and kept the nervous patterns of a sleeping world,
each insomniac shadow an amusing victim for his patient claws.
He reclined in the sweetness of stolen hours – content in that primordial empire
of lights and half-lights –
while stars held sentinel.
Cocooned by lazy shadow, an indolent
king dreams of ancestral forests:
hunger the aching heartbeat of a sleepless world
where anxious phantoms rise and die beneath
his glowing gaze. Lulled by wilderness, he paces
the perimeters of a land unscathed (by language),
unenlightened (by first fires):
lethargically warm, delightfully predatory.
Aristocratic eyes half shut
in the remembered sleep of forefathers;
when the insomniac earth breathed beneath
his tensed haunches –
carnivorous spirit, a crown of stars