You drink a bitter draught.
I sip the tears your eyes fight to hold
A cup of lees, of henbane steeped in chaff.
Your breast is hot,
Your anger black and cold,
Through evening’s rest, you dream
I hear the moans, you die a thousand’s death.
When cane straps flog the body
dark and lean, you feel the lbow,
I hear it in your breath.