A Mon Destin, Destormais Mon Delice

The morning sun is
Pregnant and spiteful
With democratic distain
So my wicked shadow
Travels under moonlight
Oblique as an assassin
Dropping down on all fours
For complex fare
Breaking the simple
Taboo of my kind
To race through the
Madness of dawn and
Open my ears to the
Pounding of the stars.