charmer.  tell me,  do you see      only that

shiver    in the hands  and   not the restless

animal  steadied     into a hole?   in the fog

a wounded lamb limps.        half of the sun

cobwebbed  with clouds   by cave  spiders.

my tongue   is a small sponge    of vinegar.

and teeth, spittle-washed   stalagmite.   lip,

thick slab    sealing  the tomb  endowed to

to the son     in perpetuity. the lamb would

be un-swallowed  after three  days & three

nights   of indigestion.  the tomb’s  gizzard

dulled— the cud bruised    but alive! those

bitemarks are visible    from the cold nails.

like the lamb   i want      to herd    my own

flock.  but father shears   his wool with his

own teeth  and split   his hooves into claws.

the smoothness reveals a see-through wolf

throbbing beneath.  father rubs  honey  for

ointment and palm oil   for turning. the pro

-verb sets  the wolf  either free    or on fire.

like me, the lamb is the father   of the man.