Not only you,
as this you did,
stood just beyond what
little I thought I knew,
patient as a pretty ox,
beribboned as in feast time,
that I might parade you
for the whole trance-ridden town,
unfurling my sex in secret
against your decorated spine.

Astride that way, watching
the village scene scroll past
the face of your face, I keep my
handful to your pageant mouth
and eat the radiant blossom crushed
like memory beneath your toe.