is borne aloft on such wings as
those of moths and aphids and fruit
bats in equatorial dusk;

To keep his blessed armor hard he ate
                                lean meat, cruciferous greens, few 
                                grains. He liked his instants

The beds are always made, and bright hallways
veer off like lanes, looking for canals to leap
across in a white arch, and the stairs rise

The newborn bear has no shape.
The mule rarely gives birth,
The viper only once.

And this shall be divided. For her
a tine to clip the bloody twine
that bound our meat, tine to pierce

OK, it’s sunny, otherworldly, skintight, 
where we’re flabby and clouded over, pining away 
under layers of jealousy, detachment, the compost heap

Thirty drops in a warm tumbler of lemonade
flood, for now, a cavern the Speedwell ripped open.
Three nights his dreams glisten with constellations.

There you are again, arms
outstretched as if to welcome me.
I am fluttering 

Suddenly, you were planting some yellow petunias
outside in the garden,
and suddenly I was in the study

Never put your personal spoon in the common jelly bowl.
Spread your napkin upon your lap. Do not grasp.