The Maggot and the Fly

below in the ditch

climb onto my back

skull-leaved on the slope

uncoupling ornament

turning as a face might turn

coagulant feast from the fleece-pond

a bright boutonnière, moistened

lips, chest


billowing on a limb

abortive husk floating the river

abradedstill warm


between the maggot and the fly

august tide, a terminal seed