nocent talon, gruntlefooted thimbledrinker
the time you cut my palm
and those smooth liquids met

i do not miss you, gaumy goblin
you bit too much, you scratched
and all the acid posthumous

now i sit in a seat most high
his bitten fingers in my hair
my twigs in his

drawn and quartered, honey-cut
my diary dog-eared
but not your pages