he lay in a tangle of black sheets,
as pale upon that rumpled silk
as the luminescent foam was pale
upon the crest of each wave that
broke upon the sandy shore.
he moved to the window,
gazing out at the sable sea and tarry night,
awed by the smooth, ebony vista that
was relieved only by the crests of combers
and the frostlike patches on
the bellies of the low-lying clouds.
his eyes –
red as the blood needed to sustain him –
were like purling water,
glistening in places with
dim reflections of the ambient light
from the night beyond his window.
shuddering,
he silently moved to
the pen of cattle housed
behind the massive mansion
that solely occupied
the old weathered cliff.
grabbing an aged mottled bovine,
he gently stroked its nose
while twisting its neck in a
quick, virtually painless death,
hearing the crack of bones
as fragile as chalk sticks.
he sighed as he drank
his fill from the beast,
disturbed by his own existence
and what he had become out of
necessity –
the necessity of remaining sane.
the cow surrendered its life
as a lover might have surrendered
its virgin body,
so exhausted by the intensity of its passion
that it succumbed only with
sighs, whispers, and shudders.
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