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grind him into little capsules
to take with warm milk when
you are feeling low or bad
about your body. you want to
strip the skin silence of lambs
style, wear it out in all the grit
& scruff & Jodie Foster is a deer
hid beyond the pines whimpering
& pattering the soundtrack. he
bites your ear so sick the neighbor’s
basement floods. put him in
makeup & step on his head sharp
—heeled until it screams.  let gender
touch the place until flushed,
afraid, no longer tending up yourself

to some other hot mouth pressed against
rock teeth slitting marks into soil where
bending down the clot grew solid
& brushed upon the chest.

or like only drinking
                                light beer,
a blood party half an hour early
or for a boy who won’t show. you are
unborn momentarily when the
quiet V of your legs timber forests
& in moments of grief the molars
of our mother’s glint in the passing
light outside the windows rendering

           toward nothing, an empty room upon room
           torn the edges of the gums inside us &
           trembling hand against the cock says
           You are more bearable than any god

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