Handfasting


I come to myself in the feed want need.


              What I’ve starved for        a hymn


I’ve never sung. The only lyric


                                                            forgiveness.


Now I try to hum


              but the corsage of bleeding,


hands of shook grass       clash.



I come with shoulders


              square as jaws, and fists      heaving.



In a baby summer            I rest


              my hand on my own shoulder


murmur               whatever terror isn’t.



              I unload the heart-gun


promise me. I kiss my sure. Come with me



              I say to me. A wailing in the blood-


grove, I marry me


                                            and me


                                                                          and me.


                                                     I run away with me,


              queer shadow in my teeth,


the leaves fling from the trees


              like tossed rice, the boughs bow.



              I am borne


on wedded wind.              I sing


              a melody that rings like mother.



Now hear me whistle,


              emptied of the oldest hunger.

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