His unlidded eyes a wish
always coming true,
as his body slithered
from a sheath of skin
half-alive on the grass
like a final lesson on escape.
He moved only when other things
strayed beyond suspicion.
The worlds inside sleep
couldn’t hold him. In an arcade
somewhere in a marketplace
he was Houdini reincarnated
in a box. Soon came the hour
he was created for: a woman,
free-footed as Isadora
in sashes, draped his body
over hers. An apprentice
placed an apple in her left hand
& lush gardens sprouted across
three canvases. Her smooth skin,
how his wedge-shaped head
lingered between her breasts,
left him drowsy. The clocks
sped up. A cruel season
fell across their pose
as they began a slow dance.
She reshaped the pattern of skulls
on his yellow skin, a deep
falling inside him when her hips
quivered & arms undulated,
stealing the pleas of prey.