Obedient to instinct,
I sink my teeth into your neck,
and split your jugular,
soaking you off like a stubborn label.
You're a remarkable piece of shallowness.
I startled you and you startled me.
I'll set you down on a lap of lichen,
with your two black eyes that I couldn't see,
any more than you see a window.
I was stunned into stillness,
our eyes locked and someone threw away the key.
It emptied our lungs,
it felled the forest,
shook the field,
it drained the pond.
The world dismantled and tumbled
into that black hole set of eyes.
Uncollected and unconnected,
loose leaf and blown.
I missed my chance.
I should have gone for the throat.
Blood pulses in my gut,
through your jugular, as falling snow.