Fourteen

King Ram, a brideless exile, 
stalked by shades in the silent wood.
Set, to rip a god
into 14 perfect pieces, reverently
within the Minotaur’s gates.

Hot bull’s breath
upon a shoulder, the burning teeth and limbs entwining.
Now lifting an acacia lance,
bodies unformed and reforming.
Bull’s lusty urges, birthing one
the gift received, the life unfolding.

The life unfolded, failing.

The heated kiss, fading.

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