I want to eat.
With teeth I want to rend bleeding muscles of
robust animals, crush the hard kernels of nuts.
I bring hooped baskets of helpless fruits.
With nails I dig into their feverish cheeks and
tear them open.
Tart sweetness drips down my palms.

Give me the black pike, the painful sourness of
forest berries and pungency of junipers.
I want to suckle earth’s roots — take in all
her secrets and bitter juices.

I want to drink —
Suck all springs dry up to their source. Drink
from thin glass goblets and from clay pitchers.
From pitchers — foamy milk.
Milk: the first and only wine.