The Married Man

As dawn caught up with the withered man,
after sodomy, made him grin to the sky,
and in the hole where he'd drink,
he'd observe the tained beauty.
The male.

They'd entwine their thin arms.

But no,
he was never carried away to the sun,
as the man was married -
to be wed.
With grubby children,
which clashed with his etire,
his hat.

Maddened, in a mocking laughter.
And against the red sky, they came for him.
Until bled black.

A puppet, shaken about.

Black organ pipes,
only a single man attented.