Amidst the soft lulls in activity.
It still shudder with hunger,
Playful denials and something
Remains which is always light
Aware of how things shift
The well runs dry
No matter how compelling
The animal’s thirst
But it knows the cycles of the earth
Shifting within the faces of woman
Soon, the one which will draw forth
Moisture, supple and languid
Fevered Kali,
And the animal, supine with bliss
Stands upright,
Ready to lap her altar
With kisses.
MB Blissett 