Saturn

To my left: my brain, my bravery—

Picture me a man robed with squalor

A grime imminent and afraid

Forget that which cradled my skin

Forget it’s softness, her purity

I am no more OF THE PRINCIPLE

Call my canines the softest of teeth

For even she who lashes, who breathes

Imagine as she peels back the husk; see:

Her fruit supple; warm and sinless

Picture me a thief of the second circle

I lust not for her apples; her vines

Think of the grime once more:

To my right; my heart, my deceit—

I dig farther into her seed, searching

Ravenous I am, for an anecdote of saint

Here we are, dancing—waning—lusting

PRINCIPLE is dead, but only for a moment

My unfaithfulness has driven her far

How captivating, my newest love

It is her rot which draws me near

Think how I once dressed in silk;

She’s made of me a man of dignity

Who writhes in dirt and murky waters

But I don’t dare to return ‘till dawn

For my Lord is still in need of children

And to mate with mire is to die!