A bull’s last will
Corrida goyesque, Arles, Sept. 2018.
A bull’s last will
Shinny up onto my back, my sweet. This is my last will, to feel your pale thighs against my dark flanks, on my spine, your nudity’s kiss. Lean forward, hold fast to my horns, have no fear, they are beautiful and powerful yet embedded by others. Lay on me, nestle your breasts right there where the picador will strike twice, then a kiss a bit higher, where the matador will plunge his sword. Get down quickly now, they’re opening, that’s my cue. Do not be sad. I will be defiant now that I carry your scent.
