On Hunting and Being Borne

On Hunting and Being Borne

Into the deep Dark forest of bitten bark
Where hungry innocents
Wait in Itchy warm wool,
100 year solitude

Caught in daybreak
Like headlights, sullied
My Echo to your Narcissus
Contraction of muscles and nerve
Deliverance, Bloodied hands

Eyes stare Icicles, like daggers from frosted pains
You shoot your dirty looks at the Mirror,
Angry at the reflection

Craving bone and skin and beating heart
A Love greater than its parts
Soggy leaves lost their crackle
beneath your feet

Acid raining in my decaf
Drips ripples in my brown mud
Heir to a caustic silence
Your blood lines rifled, hemorrhaged.

a bleeding heart inheritance
Trail of smoke,
First breath—like chimney whispers
Hiding in the glen

Umbilicals can cut like teeth
Short rupture
In the long white haul

Meet your maker
a rapture
we can almost taste

Nourished by the milk and meat
Mourning comes
When you cannot possess these waters
Swaddled in a bassinet
Naïve but crying anyway

And you drag your prize out of the woods
humble ending strapped to your roof
Open season

But Artemis got you first.


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