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Mother gazelle, father horse

The mender, the hill and the mire

Galloping hard the same course

Aiming farther and higher

I fear that I can’t

I’m sweating for bread

Sweating to get out of bed

I kept the hoofs that stomped the Lilac

I shed my mane for you Delilahs

You wrote on parchments of my skin

You stuffed and glued my head in nylon

Mother gazelle, father horse

I was shot by the hunt’s dull ambition

You can plaster and lime all you want

But my reek from the walls will never leave

And you’ll know I was right all along

Statues made love – stitches were born

You’ll know I was right all along!

Sincerely yours,

Your trim headed son,

The lion that failed everyone.