“Bury the metal from my tongue,
for the venoms I spit, a
smile,
and along the shores of my lips, a
coveted love.
I will talk of stones and flames, warming
me like a warrior. No one can amend
my desires. My loyalties come
higher.
Talk peace, neckpiece, pieces of stone,
talk of taking, not giving.
Are we within the rigor
of a fine sphere?
Wilderness crowds my breast.
I call for the bow of honor and find the arrow
short.”