Menage a trois died,
Along with baby inside,
Drunken father’s hell.

In a moment fell,
Birthing pool, two concussions,
Born into the depths.

As his gentleman,
Rose and staggered from the room,
He entered, eyes blown.

Beneath the warm water,
Four arms and four legs crisscross,
Devoid of all breath.

The room’s dim light sight,
Lighthouse summons back with truth,
And Rachnoc awaits.