Philo's Justice

Philo hovered ponderously
in the garden path
demanding his form of justice.

I went out by the compost
and up the hill into the brush
and Philo was there.

In my bed from the thick
dampness his whispering voice
settled on me like death.

In the heat of love his
wheezing breath and watery eyes
disturbed my lover's slick skin.

In the cold memories over
years now in my old age
he holds me to my bed like rope.