I scouted, loin-clothed errant
waiting to see Satan
in shadows,
posed as a card master.
European beauty
eyes golden
he spills cold dice
and gambles for rarities.
I saw him at my bedside
tracing my skin with his fingers
in light filmy as a dream
I could not touch him.
I have waited to catch him
enter my dreaming
lithe as a woman
yet I find him only in sleep,
elusive as a girl.
And before I wake I realize
but do not remember
sleep is mirrors
and Satan is me.
The END Copyright © 1998
