The animal is the comforter and the betrayer,
for he has never seceded altogether from the kingdom of dark,
that perpetual opposite of the state you live in.
He’s kept that shadow with him as a part of his being,
bearing it with him contentedly, trustfully,
never glancing back at it, knowing it’s there.
Your stolen firelight, that lighted circle you crouch in,
is what he distrusts and shrinks from,
believing it should have been left
an uncontested mystery of the gods.
But his longings are still so familiar that you
mistake them for yours, obliging them continually, unthinkingly,
and being only a bit disconcerted, at times,
by the chance discovery
that they are no longer so entirely your own
that their satisfaction appeases all of your heart,
no more entirely your own than his phosphorescent night eyes
are the eyes with which you will face each day’s
bland reassurance of a simple existence continued
among your kind. But the animal is
Not only your betrayer but also your comforter.
Since he is faithfully waiting for your return to him
when you have nothing else to return to.
When you return to him
(waiting a little outside the firelight he’s never trusted),
he will lick the sensitive hollow of your throat
till it stops painfully throbbing,
he will lick the tips of your fingers with his slow, knowing tongue,
so giving you comfort,
While behind him, on the other side of his dishonestly sheltering,
quickly but easily panting, treacherous, warm flank
Is your natural destroyer whom he has always known to be there,
the dark that he has brought with him. Trust
this betrayer. He is your only comfort.