1.
it's a new year and you want to go hunting
so i peel off all my winter clothes
and consider the blessings
of mud on my feet and
you on my heels

2.
i pick all the first blooms of spring for you
and we swill them in scotch til summer
i'm shot through with bee-stings
but you're speaking with devils
and you've never been prettier

3.
i'm bearing revelation down the skin of my back
vertebrae like the tower, all down to bits
can't you see? our tongues don't fit
but i'm an altar of salt and water
beneath your stony weight

(4.
and in the shade of hypoxia
i am nothing, nothing but content)