Gher the Hound

I woke in bloody sheets,
the bandages undone,
the body's dream of pain
unwound, the torn
flesh gapes and yellow curds
of fat up from the maw swell pale--
the sweet fat that makes the curves of my arm
and calf round lovely, and blood
runs red as blessing
to clean the wound.

what flows away

I was walking
in the high meadow, parting waves
of insects in wild grass. The voice said,
lie down here
and be done with wandering.

My thoughts were philandering like bees.
I was transparent, safe as a maiden
in the garden.
No maiden is safe in the garden.
The animal came upon me and I fought,
and beat at its head and neck, went
for its eyes, red as if his shot-out eyes
bled bright and blood exploded
in his skull, a fiery, baleful light.
Claws ripped my arms
and nerves shot up like flames on a screen.
Dog's breath
on my face, sick with my own
blood on his tongue, so once we owned dominion.

And yes, the fruit turns into a bird
and flies away. The flower becomes a bee.

I am a woman and I would not be
meat for the dead.
Lie down here and be done with wandering
for the kingdom is at hand.