please place her upon the serving table of her obedience
to enable her to always be available to him.
she does not smell, see, hear, taste or touch save for him,
he, masterful samurai,
is her senses which lead and guide her
to the perimeter of the himalayas
where and when his soft, feathery voice
ascends her into flight upon downy wings
to our angelic neighbours.
his own illegal, private kite,
soars controlled by his mind,
spirit on fire and
his animal pilot.
dies, she does, each time in flight.
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
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