"sonnet30"
the shadowed howlings, he gathers
as curving rose of mouth slumbers
between the iron climbing bar
from printing imprints from afar
three fingers twine amidst her hair
and bind her to his darkened lair
as ears to breath, a thread will twine
at first to spool and now to bind
his scaning eyes her do undress
each thought exposed e`en whilst at rest
each word transcends the spiritworld
across her lips and form that's curled
this cuff-ed beast in wink does lie
a visual painting he does eye ~
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
6 oct08
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