I want to eat.
With teeth I want to rend bleeding muscles
of sinewy animals, crush 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 to their very beginning.
Drink from thin glass goblets and from clay pitchers.
From the pitchers — foamy milk.
Milk: the first and only wine.