That it chews you,
and not your chains.
A rowboat, an oarless boy.
Who am I to starve a man?
To evade the net cast out to
loop around my
heart and put it in your ice chest.
To swim against your ankles
with speed
and no penance.
To take no bait
from the fragile hook that feeds me.
To be your nourishment,
also, then, your murderer.
No comments:
Post a Comment