*previously published in Blood of a Black Bird, 2000.

Felt a fire flickering

Beneath the raw meat

Of his stare.

He said to me,

"I've killed her--"

And he led me there.

She languid lay

In luxury;

Marks of bloated blue-gone-black

Bloody welts across her back

And where her hips met leg

Was her severed head,

Placed delicately

With her full mouth

Kissing her wet-looking crotch

So reverently.

Her eyes were closed,

Again--the fire-smile;

"She's dreaming,"

He said,

(And he leaned in close)

"Do you like to dream?"