When I am not with you
I stand in the rain, alone by the lake.
Waiting for any swan to come into land
and bang — pellets penetrate plumage.

In my cave the swan is gutted,
everything, bar bone, is taken out,
piled in bowls, eaten raw.
I save the blood.

I use the blood
to write poetry books.
When I fail, crawl into a ball
and cry.

Leaving the swan, the maggots
make for my eyes, for my tears.
On their way, they whisper in my ear —
One day we will eat you too.

Like the swan, I suffer
when I am not with you.