My nostrils moistened
My breathing became heavy and quick
Two halves of a shell rustled under soft-furred lids
I closed my eyes snored my tongue fell out
Rough but slippery with thick saliva
I panted forced to my knees – bellowing glassy-eyed with fear

An ebonite censer
Eyes of fire, cardinal,
Crumbling death cups in the hand
Moss in the mouth

Who spun my hair
With scratching shots of pine cones?
Who cut a belt out of my heart
Who dressed the wound with nettles?

A girl from the fading photograph approaches
A shy confirmand in the procession

Don’t tremble so
Sweet deer
Don’t tremble so
Sweet deer