Sonnet IV: Throughout thy feral flesh is writ
If my beloved were a lady fair,
as prim and perfect as a noble queen,
fitter ‘twould be to court, her heart ensnare,
with gentle hand, by showing courtesies—
but thou art an evil creature dark and wanton,
wild and ravenous, in need of taming;
a lynx. Yet e’en the air in both thy lungs
is mine; thy flesh is my dominion:
thou wearst my mark upon thy slender neck,
thy thighs; throughout thy feral flesh is writ
a tapestry of love telling how I wracked
and mastered thee, how thou wert bruised and bit—
For I love not the tace and pure and bright,
but thee, the fairest creature of the night.
