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Empire. Incubus. Lust. The sky came through
and the window stood open. You were not

here, no. You were there; like how the crow flew.
Like the crow caught. Like how the sky was caught

at the foot of my bed. It squawked, rustled,
beat wings as I wrapped my arms around air.

Sky loves us all; but who loves its muscled
grace? When was the last time that you were bare

naked before it? Can you name its scars?
Can you name its need? Sky, love, pony-bird.

You’re still a lost empire. You’re still night seed.
My bed is wide. I swear by the jaguar’s

toothed song that I know why you have hungered.
Love, I know how to satisfy your need.