I love a young man
whose bones are borrowed
by the baby in me
waiting for the birth
and I take from this life
from time to time, steeling,
the things like corner stones for me

adamising the light
that gets through my eyelids
giving Eve the meaning
of the well clair obscure
and to the bucket I let the wood
like a confusion
in - netting a woman and a forest

I love a young man
as if standing at border customs
taking my share with wolves
or choosing myself a lamb
from the drove which I alone
shepherd for life and for death
yet I cannot and I would not
choose …but him