THE WOLF WANES

Regard the prolificacy of skin
under hands that move
like quicksand, or air
or the shape of heat
streaming off earth toward the moon.
There must be willingness
to sleep in unclean places
to take water laid on colored rocks.
Lap it up
seep it with your teeth.
Gather milt with fingers
stir it with the cobalt of your eye.
More and more
memorize the suppleness of perineum.
Down…down…down…
unlock the gelid mainspring
brighter than gray
tenser than the sweat of horses.
It is a stupid thing to remember rain
between slow straight eyes and crossing.
I might as well stand in front of a freight train
to make it yield
than resist the slaughter table.
The wolf wanes
in the midst of syncopated cheek bones
our dark sugar song
and the weight of your brow.