I want you in the kitchen
I want you peeling
I want you darning
I want you preening
I want you giddy in the morning

I don’t proclaim innocence
nor do I curse but
I was handpicked so claim
feral privilege

if I croon if I bare my fangs
if I initiate preliminaries
if I climb the hillside of wild horses
and hidden tomo and broken apple boxes
and topiaried cherry trees and spiky
gooseberry bushes and half-cut potatoes
plunged in behind the shovel …

I may delve to the core
goose fat spilling from
the slippery corners
of my mouth

just in time to catch
your thin bones
your failing flesh
your jagged surges
your scintillant breath