an ordinary man

he was an ordinary man, and listened to the sound of his feet,
small and bare, on a bedroom floor, finding satisfaction where
the dust made little greetings, and was this a strange place,

here, where she kept her powders, spoke her little sing-songs
to the mirror on the wall, was this a magicked place, where
he could watch and make her his very own, and he'd brought her

buttery cakes, and a need to bind her passions, and strength,
to gentle her to his ways, he'd brought her rum with honeys
to leave her sweet and wanting to his ways, he was an ordinary

man, and within the day, he might be wise and reasoned, but
with the night's fall he was given over, made his dreams, he made
his watchings, savored her reflections and mastered her devices

her glamoured locks, the very walls that gave her false and
devious shelter, for they could not again deny him, could not
stay the rightness of his claims, and oh yes, he was

an ordinary man