Let me speak to your body!
And all these little squirrels bury
their hatchets in the sand.
I will find the worthiest peels
in the compost, twig them
with mutant stems, and buds
that draw rain.
Follow the whirlpool into my chest
let my tongue's nest of ribs
speak into the fibrils of your cheeks
with the ages that have swept
me to you helpless as a rag
knowing it in strength
the twined tide wraps it in.

Let me caress the season's lapse
as it falls on your body.
And the hungerless waves, to row
in them like one not being eaten.
Torn meteor eyes, soft round waist a bell
frayed bangs wild haunches marked mouth
face broad as a brick, gaze flat and
infinitely elsewhere.