Gretl

while others sneak out at night,
& go running yelping like banshees
bodies torqued under dark damages,
the wolf at the door, the woman
emerging from me like fur
on a pink and wild body;
I sit and speak to the naked moon in
her own languages, & you must not
use your hands to gesture, Brother
& you must not call softly forth, but
moderate more than two or three
vowels to fortify your meaning; my
irregular sanguine heartbeat
will collapse the metaphors
into boxes you can wear like
loving organs on your sleeves,
might I have the receipt
for all the most mirroring mistakes bought
& paid for; I could send to gathering,
the crumbs on the trail, un-shelved
the blackbird in song, under the hood
of the poison red berry and later
in season, tart seeded mulberry trees.
The books of their summer leaves,
I’m fallen open, one or another
afterlife faucets
left on, running like consequences
through third world streets, she keeps
repeating to herself, the time &
the minutes of precious sleep, the
heat of the oven, the bite of each
hour striking against the open-handed
offering, Brother; that is why
I had to kill the witch.