I was skinny as a stick,
with a lick like a whip,
with a tongue like a fist,
with a pistol for my wrongs.
I remember being surly.
Now I am sure. Now
my fuse is short. Now
I am shot through with
the swagger it takes to
push ajar the doors of
a saloon, flick priceless
vases from their stands,
with the bitterness
it takes to tell you I’m
done, art a chalk mark
drawn around your corpse.

Welcome to the calf I am,
willing to be led. Evolved
from single cell to hell
machine. From vegetable
eater to vitamin. From
light sensor to eye. No
Bible or bile to rise
at the throat. No goat
to herd. No hurt to
fake. Quick with a gun.
Good with a blade.
With that stab of
the savage that fills us.
Even sharks mate.

What I filch from you
glistens, diamonds at
my neck. Let me take
the bait, cut you out
of my will, drown you
like a kitten. Let me
be the one to break
your jaw. Kiss your
cheek. Slip a knife
between your ribs. One
fell swoop. Cool like
a loosening. Garden
like a glove. The cradle is
a deathbed. No one loves.