I am hungry,
Like a thirst maddened lioness,
When satyr has driven,
The beasts away.
I thirst when he plays,
His liquid bubbling pipes,
I lay watching night after night,
In the semi-cool of August,
Naked and wind fondled.
I arousethe dark swan,
I stir the clover beneath,
My cool milk-white belly,
I craze the wanton white moths.
The moon bends low,
His bull horns gleaming,
Yet satyrplays knowing,
I am a captiveunicorn,
Fierce,
Broken,
But not won.
