Not all I please, that is that.
"Dream of the Huntress."
"It is always the same.
She is standing over me in the forest clearing, a dab of blood
on her cheek from a rabbit or a deer.
I'm aware of nothing but my mutinous flesh and the traps
of desire sent to test it.
Her bare arms, bare shoulders, her loosened hair,
the hard high breasts, and under a belt of knives, and fish
lures, her undressed wound.
Every night, the same--
the slashed fetlock, the buckling under.
I wake in her body, broken, like a gun."