how do i feel about this,
the soreness of my neck?
i press the straps between my
twixt my
collar-chords and bone them raw.

they say the waiting is the worst part
is the roundabout what calls it skin-'n-bile
he says TWIST MY TWIXT MY TWEEN MY words
and harrows know, too small
for these contortions.

oh after-drunk this burble
finds my innards folding
finds the clothespins for my wrinkles
presses to the crevice,
breaks my writhe.

groan-moan says AND GRIPT IT HARDER;
WITHOUT THE BURN OF SCANDAL I WOULD DIE!
the next day i make mention wary,
and then never again,
give way give way.

i am in the midst of struggle
i am
found here caught.
he says GIVE ME FAIR THIS SOUR-SWEET,
GIVE ME HENCE THIS COMMON DECENCY.
and courtesy prevails.

define it then the foot-print-patter pouring rain,
the puzzle of my head between your neck-loop
the pyre of your grizzle on my skin
teeth-and-nails says CALL IT VENGEANCE;
I AM EVERMORE THIS BEING BEDOUIN.