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