I Ask Of You These Things

Take these hands
The insect wings
Which flutter so furiously
And place them around the lip of your land
Take these legs
The ancient posts
Which crumble beneath their ghosts
And won't your give them a new burden for which to stand

Take this tongue garden snake
Emerging from the lake
And won't your offer it a smooth red apple to bruise

Take my love, a silver pail
And lower it into the well
And then bathe in the water which it brought for you

I want your body to bless mine
I want you to pull me from behind
I advise thee to realize me, or despise me