as the moon places her flushed cheek to mine,
she turns and listens to the dark beast of night.
his howl awakens our animal
wants to be free from the shackles save for one.
she crawls in humility to offer her splay
masked in her animal beauty
recognised by his bites, his brand
and his bruises.
for Sahib, always
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
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