Throw this flesh away,
And fish for flame no more-
Those arrows that flew ‘twixt us,
Wither like twigs in thaw,
Our shafts splintered in old meat,
Are new picks for toothy hounds,
Maiming paws or gleeing to gore
Slathering jaws they pause
To sulk in the stomach tract,
Swelling on acids and pithy fat.
We’d have tasted better cooked, my dear,
Skewered over an open fire,
Thenceforth we’d have found that void
To our love’s prime desire.
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