Ulú Rú

byThe Huntsman©

She fits,
laces tight,
supports my heel,
when I stop.

She chews,
like a dog,
this miserable thing.
Carved of calf-skin,
to soften my hard
in-human sensitivity.

Come on, slave,
we go together.
Ité - slave,
we come together;
with hidden noise,
and secret, sticky death,
red rock, the yoga
of completion.

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