The wound
inflicted,

            the rapture—

Pursued, pursued,
                like a dog continually returning
to the prey from which it has been driven.

Not deterred,

                    nor disheartened even, the animal
impulse still worries the human surface,

or is, unbeknownst,
already obeyed.

~

So when the spear entered your side,
I waited.

What kind of withness is this?

When living in the body,
                    being body, I take up
your dark and twin redness, endure
in its always torn and fed upon
shape—
            thou dismembered,
dismemberer.

~

Necessary, or else
                said to be so, the damage
made all the more real by my thirst for it.

Mouthful after mouthful,
the speechless act.

But let you taste and see.