The stag’s heart spoke (as it passed through my throat) of desire. I’ve held the strangest of strangers. To swallow, the quickest way to
All mouth, she stole infants and cattle, wanting pulled thigh, the fat that grills up yellow, marrow, the lungs—pale yellow of a strawflower. All
Angel above the closet door, prone in flight among stars, trumpet to lip, long white gown and chestnut hair flowing, ribbon of old rose