We Were Wrong

I thrust a word not wanted in your ear.

The tiger roared; the raven dryly cawed.

I raised my voice up high for you to hear.

The murder flew; the tiger paced and pawed.

There’s nothing, when you live inside a cage

that you have might to break from any night

that lessens your regret or can assuage

your frail and conscious choice to wait for light

and do it all again: a night, a morn,

a lifetime cast aside, a bedding mark,

some scratches on the bars that aren’t worn,

a mating cry unanswered in the dark.

At first I cried for love, but now for song.

You thought the point was sex, but you were wrong.