the ivory of his eyes are the color of the keys he pushes, his fingers
into the skin of the beast he aims to tame, her
black coat, thick and sheen covering her
teeth, lifting only to purr along to the humming of his throat
lifting to bare a groan, a grimace, cavernous inside
his baritone, bracing white chatter to the highest pitch
of his right hand, caressing her lips
she sings for him, and i listen
to the sound of quiet ring through, the heels
of my feet, their tumbling duet quakes
within my chest, opening my ears to the song
they play, the song i cannot hear
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