time; or, the black moth

i was waiting for my
lover at the subway stop,
kind of in a tunnel.
and believe me when i say
this - the wind was being
cute. it would pick up
so ferociously, (almost like
a joke) so hard, i could
not ignore it and i had
to acknowledge it with
a smile, a giggle even.

all was well and as
it should have been.

until,
i noticed her, poised
like a blackish moth,
TIME, with pink ribbon
bows on her antennae,
atop my shoulder. i
could not ignore her
either, but she, with a
flap of her wings
hardly inspired smiles
or laughter.

clasped in her claws
was a long sheer
black scarf which danced
in turns like snake, like
smoke, like witches hair,
as she dove down towards
my feet.

and there she began to
bind me.

my ankles one my
knees one then my
testicles forced flat
between my thighs my
waist forced female
my ribs bend inward
my organs retreating
into each other the scarf
still rising like dark river
water up to my lips taking
last breath then last sight
the winks from her wings
then night.

outside the people
kept passing,
each one of them
a little age of man,
my lover not among them.