with a broken jaw
and a broken spine

he tries to tame the gnawing
unhinged, colubrine

he claws for claret, cherry blood
sloughs his futile, far loves
sinks his teeth into the silt mud

swiping bugs from widows web-spin
perhaps I'd never reach my anthesis
perhaps I'd never shed my dead skin

like he crawls along the leaves
all the rest crawls from his sleep
in late hours
he thinks of me