back there—just ugly things I don’t want to look at.
my thirst siting under your hand, almost disappeared.
I move like infection, gleaming, rushing across—a girl
like tallow candle in the room. in dark cedars, in night
terror, I spread quickly, pray the ground shining up.
my cartilage was broke. you said: have an okay
day. we ate the old bread anyhow. I was rib tender
and worms. you bit me everywhere. you made the
incision. there was spoiling cream. we were necking
in the buckthorn bush. you undid the sutures. I puckered.
there was my red stuffing. it was as far as the eye could see.