Photo by Clayton Cubitt

Ekphrasis № 1

In the raw hour, none is more than beast and his band.

Breathe and listen to the beads as they drip.

Listen to fur on flesh and, when it calls, so answers the animal behind broken eyes.

With the musk of a jaunty brow and crisped flesh, and savored flesh, breathe upon pleated pore.

Benign be the grotesque flavor of such an animal,

of such a man.

Tom Littrell for Poetry in Form.