warming me as a fuzzy woolen
sweater. I paid you as a debtor with this
silky red heart. My edges you
singed. And turned into fringe. Then you

cut out the frills. And just as a mill crushed
me into kibble and bits. Melting me down,
a golden globe of butter. And I swam in the
clutter, greased in the lard. Till I hardened as

the sticks in my backyard. You kicked
in a pile and with match and guile made
a bonfire. And I in turn warmed you in the light
of the harvest moon.