cold
sordid, alone

sour milk
I spill and swim in
summer aestus
as kind as they've been
smiles, sharp
glasgow
sin

don't touch me

the dream, gone
the deed, foreborne
the viceroy and its mimicry

wilt, milk thistle
to milkweed's thief
bloodflower
and antelope horns

strike the ear
of my fresh reprise
overwintered, ignorant

surely, somewhere, in the thick of it

the monarch swings
and the monarch strikes

two ends meet
for a sharp excise

galvanize the girl to grow
let whatever you speak stoke

paltering
preying
perusing me