Ensconced

 

each morning he                          
slips
her into his
pocket

the right one with the
sharp and shiny
keys

their jingle calls up
cages
their ridges wear down
pride

and there
she lies

in silence
in honour
in peace pressed
warm

against the solid silver
throb
of his over
active unre
pentant pulse

that
soothes and stirs and
calls
to her as no
other
          ever
has

© s rogers 6 dec 2009

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