Each night she lies patiently in fire, Blood thick, body dissolving.
Dissatisfaction is religion.
She plants it and prays. She cuts His meat and licks blood from the knife. Some nights he stumbles Into her grief, which tries To drown him like an invisible well. He is a wolf with no teeth, He is a blind soldier Shooting everything, he is An ear of corn beneath the beaks of crows. If only sorrow had shape He could climb it like rope To the attic where their marriage waits.