Under the stars, spiky fingers,
        They walked, winds at their back,
Talking of the warmth
        Of the fireplace, the softness
        Of their beds, the quiet.

Their stomachs empty, teeth
        Of saliva, they stepped faster,
The cat’s tail a circling hand
        Of time, the dog’s nose
        Twitchy as the man’s left eye.

“Good heavens!” said the woman
        As they stepped inside
The house. “Why were you
        Out at such an hour?
        The fire is ready.”

“We were just out for a walk.
        Tired of just sitting here
All day long, day after day.”
        “Well, now I wish,” she replied,
        “I had never asked.”

The dog curled on a rough rug
        Before the fire, tapping flames,
Orange, elongated tongues, speaking
        Of warmth as the cat snuggled
        With her head on his back.
The man sat at the dining
        Room table before a leg
Of lamb, potatoes with parsley,
        A glass of blood-colored wine.
        The dog, awaken, howled.

The man howled back. The cat
        Rubbed her head against
The man’s ankle. The woman
        Called, “Kitty, kitty,”
And struck a tuna can with a fork.

The stinky tuna in a blue bowl
        Made the man’s eyes
Water as the cat fangs came
        Down on the pink flesh,
And the dog howled.

“Okay, okay, relax” the woman
        Cried out. She poured a can
Of fleshy brown dog meal
        Into a slivery bowl. Whistled.
        The dog choked it all down.

“Cheers,” said the man (all smiles)
        To the woman clanking
Her wine glass, her lips bloody
        Looking while her quick pink
Tongue licked them clean.

Then a one-legged fly landed
        On the tip of the man’s
Nose, making his eyes cross,
        And in a swoon the man
        Dropped to the floor.

In his eyes, half of the world
        Was a stretching shadow that
Grew until there was only darkness
        Until he felt a hand push his back
And his eyes opened to the dog

Licking his face, the cat sitting
        Beside his head, purring,
His wife walking out the door,
        A suitcase in her hand,
        Not glance back at him.

That night the man slept
        More soundly than he
He had in many years. The dog
        Curled at his feet. The cat
        Nestled on the other pillow.

He dreamed he lived in the desert,
        That he was a praying mantis,
Walking across the sand under the stars
        Like wet sponges leaking
        Watery, shimmering light.

His life was content, until
        Out of the night a female
Praying mantis flew to him. Then,
        His head dropped into her
        Jaws, as was always the way.