Handfasting

I come to myself in the feed want need.

              What I’ve starved for        a hymn

I’ve never sung. The only lyric

                                                            forgiveness.

Now I try to hum

              but the corsage of bleeding,

hands of shook grass       clash.

I come with shoulders

              square as jaws, and fists      heaving.

In a baby summer            I rest

              my hand on my own shoulder

murmur               whatever terror isn’t.

              I unload the heart-gun

promise me. I kiss my sure. Come with me

              I say to me. A wailing in the blood-

grove, I marry me

                                            and me

                                                                          and me.

                                                     I run away with me,

              queer shadow in my teeth,

the leaves fling from the trees

              like tossed rice, the boughs bow.

              I am borne

on wedded wind.              I sing

              a melody that rings like mother.

Now hear me whistle,

              emptied of the oldest hunger.