A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight

They mouth love's language. Gnash
The thirteen teeth
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh
Love's breath in you is stale, worded or sung
As sour as cat's breath
Harsh of tongue

This grey that stares
Lies not, stark skin and bone
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon
Dire hunger holds his hour
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears
Pluck and devour!