billyfivecrows

Being in love with the songless
Can tilt the water and drown the wolves.

The moon is full, fat in fact, a thin
Finger probes naval, finding stiff

Fur around the crater. She appears
With urine at an angle. Some weight

And she cries. At home, we called
"Concrete" and "Nature Spins"

Inhabitants of the warning. Nostrils
Where the horses run through.

That's enough to do, to name
Two animals in an afterbirth of impulse

And marking of an underworld
Questioned by the swirled

Throat as it coughs and clears
A space that names the spice

That triggers the meat
Into a music of starvation

Ribs in gold and growling...