We have done little harms to each other,

and we shared soup when the moment was right.

Remember the nights we animalled until full dawn,

                                                               got vicious and chomped the starlight,

                  the gashed darkness spread like sick around this place.

I still stop dead for the marvelous mouth of you,

                                                      even if our skins droop and waver,

cleft and lift at inopportune times.

                                 Now the scent of baby heads, of mother mouths and dishes.

                   Good morning, little headache of this life I inadvertently chose.

                                                    I wish to make a ravishing of you.