May the dandy find his cemetery nice and neat.
May the flies not fall.
May her forehead continue to shine
like a bell in the kitchen.
May the strength of the oppressed
alarm the wicked.

Stacked winters on sand and grass
ice in glass sheaths calling to a crooked wire
ceilings and walls in the palm of one hand
murky blades catching long strands
and ceasing to move.

Take your time with me, tigress.
Spin the other men around you
in their rags of discontent.
Let us leave these fools behind
and go out together
to the greed of the sunlit tar
and the replaced lives.

Take me into your web of honey
like a rod on the embankments.
Slip into my furry longing
like an eel in mink.