This is my second Spander Sextina. You can find my first sextina, and my Livejournal Sextina rules here.

It is dedicated to 6 Livejournal Friends who provided me with the 6 key words of this sextina. The form is retrograde cross.

This is, of course, the sort of poem Spike would compose for Xander in my story, "Xander on the Menu".

A Sextina For my Victim


A Sextina For my Victim
By Spike
to Xander

Here is the hawk and rabbit, here is the hound and fox.
Tucked in, held close, close, holding. Here, all warm, cozy.
Deadly questions, secret answers. Secret days, deadly nights.
Can the hunted rest, be idle? Can the hunter practice sloth?
Here we teach, we kiss, we learn. Here were taste, we savor -- muse.
(I'll hunt you down tomorrow, love. Today, love, let us live.)

Your hand in my hand, victim. I'll show you how to live.
Your body in my arms, let's forget the hound and fox.
In my mouth I catch your secrets, in my mind I find your muse.
In my embrace, your naked needs. And in my bed, Cozing -
Lazing - Resting - yet ever Questing - Learning always. Never idle.
Secret Days for answerings. (For fighting, deadly night.)

Voice your wishes by the day, kill those demons dead by night.
Voice your wishes, share your secrets. Let me touch you. Learn to live.
These eyes see you, this mouth tastes, and these hands are never idle.
This mind is full of you; victim, rabbit, student, fox.
Here within my arms be nestled, and on my body, cozy,
Take your leisure. Plan your lesson. Ask your questions. Wonder. Muse.

Do you wonder? Are you wondering? Curious? And do you muse?
My hands are skillful teachers. My mouth, deadlier than night.
I'll keep you up by day, love. Nights have never been so cozy.
For now I know your secrets, love. Smell you. Know where you live.
This hawk has caught his rabbit. Gently, hound will take his fox.
In my mouth you won't be idle .... never see the sin of sloth.

Lo, these years I've wandered, a lost pagan with no idol.
No gods worshiped (goddess neither.) Found myself without a Muse.
Found a rabbit for my pleasure. Hounded, found myself a fox.
I caught him up, I laid him bare, I tasted, spread him out by night,


My fox has failed to die, has caught my scent. My fox, he lives.
I cannot make nights deadly. Sleep by day? No time for cozing....

By day I teach, careful, specific. In the afterglow, we're cozy.
But where's my victim? My pleasure for my hours of sloth?
For my rabbit fails to die, has pinned me down. My fox, he lives.
He bites. He tastes. He savors. "Is there more?" my victim muses.
Now, he demands, defies me. Daring, now he steals my nights.

I am the hawk.

The rabbit takes me.

Hound is ravaged by the fox.

The End

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