Little Song Poem by Rickey Laurentiis

Given what I am, if
not cannibal for, animal for: he
who let go a door in me, be-
cracked my sternum to a hundred flashing moths, oh handsome, oh — Truth
be told: I hungered this, needled it out, I
stretched for this. Always a field stirs, would
stir, for want of being filled. Dwell
of me, my Eden, my Hook. In
pleasure weren't we founded? At the
start didn't we blend and blur? I would be his bravery, illusion
of his fearlessness and his fear. Given what I am only, of
meat: cut fire: the inconsolable: of these, Him.