you against the drag of others

I saw your barefoot prints

in the shadows of the snow

everything from you spills

your passions being

communicated are impressive

with their immediacy but

I have no fucking idea

what you are talking about

you have sworn me to secrecy

as if words were chopped

pieces of hickory and they

can burn your egg sacs

drooling out onto the floor

where your recent reconstructions

still touching it touching what

disorder

disorder

disorder

I have kept the secret

from him even as

it has shrunk from

its previous size

having emerged only

to find your throat

to slide down engorged

ripening and wanting more