I lick your wounds like I am some kind of
Lipsticked vacuum
Man domesticated wolves, maybe I can
Domesticate you
I look at the slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth
Your eyes, alert
You reek of wanting and keep a shotgun
Aimed into the dirt
You know I want to kiss you, so you say something cruel
Then feel god-awful and go kill something else to fill the silence
To prove yourself as a Hunter who wanted to be a Gatherer
But was raised in violence
Hair in your eyes, you’re cool, you’re wild
Teeth in my chest, you’re sorry, you’re embarrassed
See? See? It’s not just you I ruin, it’s everything
But I am happy to stay between your molars, tightly pressed
The gun goes off
You howl, and I see
You are what you are
I am a rabbit in your teeth
Image: Arctic Hare (1841) by John James Audubon.