We fold to the house of the tiger.
Uneven stripes of glee, between me, and me, and my teeth.
Separating my prideful jaws from heart, overflowing with thick crimson.
I was welcomed back to the church of the red ink,
Open armed with longing and shakey hands.
I’ve spilled so much of that sticky burlesque red amongst these halls,
So full of smoke, as my wretched lungs, and mouth and brain;
I thought I’d be exiled for the rest of my time.
We fold to the house of the tiger.
All bladed jaws and writhing stripes,
Slitherthick and elegant.
Cat’s eye marbles and quartet kisses.