1.

The come-flavored
language

of a tyrant
had had H rivetted.

Now, he felt himself
a hunted man,

and only one door
was open.

2.

A throng of
odorous, hulky men

had brought
a lamb

and hung
the jowls

on the rafters of
the inn.

3.

A cleaver was
in H’s hand.

He choked on
the dense fumes of fear.

4.

His stone
eye had

no desire, no
purpose

save going
dark.

On the cold
hearth,

a puddle
dried.

5.

The wound.
The heavy breathing.

H’s Loneliness trod
on him, hated him,

went like iron
through his head.

A gaunt shadow stood
beside him in the blood.

6.

And a thunderbolt left
a heavy silence

behind it, fermenting like
an old crocodile.

7.

H took the hint
that men

all over the island engaged
in bestiality.

8.

Where was
the high bailiff?

Where was the man
who leashed

his people?
Had the flower

in his dungeon
burst?

9.

Softened and
stripped bare, H

found no barrier
between ignorance

and willingness
to do awful things.

He had to
get away.

10.

Yes, yes!
H wriggled out

from under the body
astride him,

gave the chap
a kiss,

and put on
the red stockings.

11.

“Where are
we going?”

said the man called
Maug.

“We? I
don’t know,” H said.

12.

As the moon
set on Point Ayre,

there was
not a sail in sight.

“I’m not sleepy,”
said Maug.

The face, so peaceful,
formidable.

The soft hand in
H’s own.

Who was robbing
whom?