A butterfly pinned Suddenly mute, immobile Trapped against a
I have bounded my worship I spurn your supple limbs Your sinuous
My mother warned me Of the girl born out of flame Summoner of
The Game* *I taste the metal hasp, cold steelSpit dripping down
Will you remember When the water reclaims you The wetness we
The Game (2) **Leather on my left cheekYour boot caresses meLeather