#1
I feed, like feral monster, by the land.
Each morsel transfigures beneath my skin.
They crawl on bloodied bodies, seeking, in
The swirling rivers and on the fleshy sands,
To make of me, the mockery I am.
Of blood, of bone, of every means of sin
To turn me from a hunter, birth their kin
And to their leech’s allegiance I will band.
You turn my innards like the spoiled milk.
I grow from kneeling nothing to a man
And cringe into the dark. Right back again.
The bile tastes to me like softest silk,
And calms the twisting edge from which began
My starving heart is married yet again.
