He comes to me dragging heavy earth
behind him, smushing clods into his thighs,
desperate to smear white linens.

I see shards. We dig, his grimy broken nails
all everywhere my neck a tangled
mass of veins with conjacent stinks
of

rust, stale musk, cat piss with hints.
He tears my hair bleached-palings. Piles
them home with teeth-vice

deeps my cervical spaces. Finds
solid. Bones, flint denials, curvaceous
subsidiary borders. Handles defy

origin refuse turn
or conformity to Rule of Tools.

He hangs by hose by doubt by fire-stealth.
Sparks threat his unconcerned Eden
a priority share

But I know orchards. I have slept with
my head on an altar. I have wept water
enough to feed spring. Ours

a pantuic universe. He truffles
armpit secrets. Licks. Fills buckets brim-full
with filth of me. Parries with his yoke balances

infinite progeny shoulders my underlying
graininess grabs prepucal complexity by its
scruff

carries me one
����������sense
���������������slice
at a time

to smooth whispers where I slime arrowhead
trail for him
down

on all four he cocks up my pillows
sprits a concentration morningward
I cave in his humus place

it gredatiously upon my
belly
my grave stone my
other-world portal my mons my
baby baby sponge ledges he tightropes
he edges to my hole my ground unfurls falls

a groan like a man praying lilies escapes
from a valley of rotting ferns. All control
runnels its way home shit off a
shovel.

�oh you�re so dirty.�



�2006 by AnnMarie Eldon